


Bury Me Alive

by Letsnottalkaboutitaye



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred is a badass cop from the 80s, Alternate Universe - Human, Arthur tha wiz-turd, Epic Bromance, Feliciano is the love interest but also a little fuck that speaks in codes instead of actual English, Gilbert -- mad scientist or hella geek? You decide, I killed a kid, I'm great at romantic comedies, If you're a pessimist this story is sad, If you're a realist you don't care because you just want to see more Gilbert, If you're an optimist this story is happy, Lovino needs a larger fucking vocabulary, Ludwig is the karate kid, M/M, Murder Mystery, OOC, Oh wait, Psychological horror but also funny, Rated T because all of this is Lovi's POV and I guess 'fuck a duck' doesn't count as a prayer, SASS THE CHRISTMAS SPECIAL (Chapters 37-39) AND I'LL KRAMPUS YOUR ASS, make that two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-06-08 16:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 55
Words: 262,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15247548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letsnottalkaboutitaye/pseuds/Letsnottalkaboutitaye
Summary: Lovino Gaspari might admit to having anger issues, but he's more likely to blame his frustration on being overworked and stuck at minimum wage. All he wants is an out. Something better, something a little bit more meaningful (that deals with less assholes on a daily basis, preferably), and, what do you know, he gets it!Be careful what you fucking wish for.Ghosts weren't real. This hallucination is because his job is shit and he's tired. That made sense. Feliciano was eccentric, but he was just an innocent flirt--a little manipulative is all, right? This is all an elaborate prank! No way is he hiding in a dumpster, waiting to get shot in the head by a crazed cop. And--And cults were totally a thing. Yeah, they were, and Lovino just--FUCK.Lovino knows little as his life is turned into a fantasy Y/A novel, but he is positive that Feliciano belongs in a cartoon, that Gilbert is a psychopath, and that Ludwig is a little bitch. Oh, and that he's totally a murderer now. Yay.Includes: A SERIAL KILLER CHRISTMAS SPECIAL (Chapters 37-39)(If Lovino's character development doesn't make you cry you're wrong)*Unrelated*ItacestOOC; AU; HU





	1. Un

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: I am in the process of enlisting in the military. That means I could be leaving in two weeks or two months depending on whatever happens. So, if come end of October and this isn't finished, I'm sorry, it may never be finished. I don't know how my fanfiction career will continue while I'm in the military. I may decide to keep writing out my first-draft ideas as fanficitions (as it is easier and comes with the community I grew up with) or I may decide to just skip the middleman and go back to writing original fiction; or perhaps I'll be too fucking busy to even write (very, _very_ possible). I'll come back and edit this when I decide, so if you're reading it I'm either inactive or it's still before I've decided. 
> 
> Whilst I'm still here, though, let's see how far we can get! There is a fuckton to cover! 
> 
> COMMENT! I rather one comment to 1000 kudos, you guys! If you don't want me to respond because you're anxious or hate me (same) (jk, you the only one) just put three asterisks (***) at the beginning of your comment. And, if you're commenting as a guest, put some creativity into your name! Tell me your life's story in the how-ever-many-characters they give you.

“Under the guise of a trafficking rink,” he drawled, stuffing his hands into his pockets with a slight glower reaching his features. “I’m not sure they understand what they’re up against.”

He caught the piercing stare through the darkness, stars pulsing above the almost vacant parking lot. The whirring of trucks could be heard as ACs and other electronics were put to work, with the throttle and drone of passing cars, warm air stirring about in waves, otherwise left still and evenly pounding over the mid-august Arizonian summer night. The man’s partner, his brother, wore a perfect grin, something so deviously curious that the man began to question whether he was on the right side in this war.

“They know exactly what they’re doing, Lud,” he laughed lowly, though there was forever a constant tinge of his voice, a croak, as if his vocal chords had been torn to shreds somewhere along prepubescent years. A bright sunburn, scattered across his nose and cheeks, gave perspective how ghastly blond he was; and how the rest of him, under thin garments and lotioned sunscreen, paled, almost luminously, in any form of light. He was a Hollywood vampire. Ironic, really.

“Whether that’s true, we can’t move in tonight. We better head back to the motel.” The man decided, casting a final glance towards the dead truck stop, run by an unsuspecting teen that could be seen through the window. She scrolled through her phone. The man couldn’t help but stare.

“We’re not able to save her,” his brother said. “It’s against our policy.” In his pocket was a small object, no larger than a common key-chain--similar to the makeup of one, as well--that he now dug out to apply his emphasis. “Stop kicking yourself over it.”

 The man let off something of a growl. “I know. Kirk would kill us if we went against it—but—”

“But nothing. Come on. We have forty-eight hours to catch these ones.”

“Forty-eight? That’s it?”

The albino shrugged. “They’re playing with us, or testing us, I’m not sure. Their rules.”

“Then why don’t They--!”

“How they hell am I supposed to know?” Though his tone was laced with seriousness, his face still held the overlying gleam of glee.

The man shook his head, knowing that in the morning they would be back to stake out the property a bit more. Forty-eight hours—what did They have in mind? What was Their end goal? “Then I guess we better read up on it before it happens,” he gave.

* * *

**Two months prior**

“Fuck me in the ass,” Lovino groaned, rubbing his temple as the whole world a doorway away erupted with mindless consumers who had all decided that they were _right_. The truck-stop he worked at had a main area with a small open-bar restaurant and convenience store, with a wing on the east made-up to be a shower area, leaving the west wing reserved for backstock. He quickly walked down the east trailer, eyes scanning for whatever-the-hell Dorthey Lynch sauce was, checking boxes, cursing everything from salt to tarter sauce to the stupid ketchup packets his damned coworkers kept dropping and not picking up, before finally finding a bottle with curiously-orange contents that had blinked out at him from the bottom shelf. Taking two of the large bottles up in his arms, he returned to the havoc.

Feliciano grinned at a woman stupidly. “No way!” he gushed. “I have family in Oklahoma. What brings you to Kansas?”

Lovino groaned. Feliciano needed to shut it and just ring the woman up. Send her on her way so that the growing line of disgruntled people would leave. There were two registers, one for the kitchen and one for the convenience store. Lovino was on kitchen tonight, so along with his duties of cooking he also had the immense pleasure of taking orders.

“Penny pincher,” Lovino cursed under his breath, referring to his boss who, knowing full well how much work running a store _and_ a restaurant right on Route 66 _and_ expecting showers to be kept _and_ dining areas to be watched, only put two people on shift at a time. Lovino often-times grumbled about being the back that kept the wine on their boss’s table. Feliciano would just laugh at him.

Plastering what he hoped looked like a vexed smile—because people would shuffle off with their feathers ruffled quicker if he looked angry—he met the man that had demanded the mystery sauce for his salad. “This it?”

“Yeah, and can we get this to go?”

“You said it was for here—”

“The wait was too long.”

Lovino could _feel_ his eye twitching but catered anyway. Fuck minimum wage—he was seriously considering a plan B of prostitution in Las Vegas at this point.

Every minute was slower than the last.

“I’m sorry,” he wanted to snap, “but I can’t possibly make it cook any faster! Do you _want_ a raw burger, because it’s seven-at-night and I decided to cook to-order tonight, kay?”

“My manager’s number? Why don’t I give you your mother’s number—don’t worry, she gave it to me last night.”

“Well _fuck you and your service dog_.”

“Just because you’re not looking at me doesn’t mean I can’t see you picking your fucking nose!”

“Plummer-a-fucking-lert. News flash, fatass, belts exist.”

His head swirled with deliciously venomous comments, but alas he really did enjoy having an apartment and gas money.

The eight-hour shift was never over. One moment he was cooking, the next he was doing dishes, the next Feliciano was hissing at him to be nice and watch the front because he _really needed to pee_ , the next he was being rushed in the trailer for more coffee grounds because the pot was empty _again_ —though, to be fair, he had probably consumed at least half of that last batch—the next Feliciano spilled his mop water and was laughing at how angry Lovino looked, the next he was cleaning the counter and finally— _finally_ —Elizaveta, his manager, came to relieve him of his shift.

“Busy tonight?” she asked. She had come in through the backdoor, pulling a bit of the summer air in with her as she walked. It smelt faintly of oil, and the leather jacket she wore—she now shuffled off to set beside her purse—let off a stiff wail every time she moved. As she passed Lovino could only note the distinct smell of dust, from the leather, and soft florals, from her perfume and perhaps shampoo. She was distinguished, sitting at about forty years old, with greying hair that she continuously dyed to keep a vibrant toffee color, but still chill. She had yet to write Lovino up.

“Oh, no, just seven-hundred in snack bar alone.” Lovino groaned.

“Must’ve been a pretty tough dinner rush.”

Feliciano perked up, coming out from the coolers, his arms filled with empty beverage boxes. “Elli!” he gushed.

“Kiku is going to be a few minutes late, Feli, so hold off on counting your drawer.”

Feliciano dropped his trash, grabbing his water bottle and giving her a sickeningly happy smile. “Not a problem. Can I start taking inventory, though?”

“Yeah, just make sure to note what you sell.”

“Okay! Lovino, will you still wait for me?”

Lovino and Feliciano were on-shift together a lot—Lovino suspected it was because no one else worked with him just as well as Feliciano did—and they had fallen into the habit of walking to their vehicles together. Lovino always joked that it was because Feliciano was afraid of the dark, but he never minded it. It was actually kind of nice.

“What?” Lovino demanded. “Wait?”

“Please?” Feliciano whined, drawing out the ‘plea’ with a fraudulent frown that lifted at the ends.

Lovino, pounding out of his register and collecting the signed receipts and other paperwork, clicked his tongue. “You better hope Kiku gets here soon. I’m out of here the second I’m done counting.”

Sitting down in the back, Lovino grabbed at the clipboard with the shift-report. “Lovino!” Feliciano called from the front.

“What?”

“Can you come help me?”

“Ask Elli!”

“…”

He sighed, reaching for his calculator.

“Lovino!”

“ _What_?”

“Elli can’t do it. Can you come help me?”

Lovino groaned, scrubbing at his eyes. “With _what_?”

“…”

“Tch,” Lovino scooted closer to the desk, his ass very-much content in the cushioned chair. “What an idiot.”

“Loooviiiinooo!”

“Whaaaat?”

“Can you come—”

“No!”

“Lovino!”

Restraining himself with a bellicose groan, drumming his fingers on the desk in a quick, violent succession, he stood and stomped out to the front. “ _Yes, Feliciano_?” he asked in his _sweetest_ voice.

“Be, Lovino,” he said in-such-dumb-manner that Lovino could have punched him, “can you open this please?”

“Are you telling me that you pulled me away from my job to open a jar of sauerkraut?”

“It’s just,” he excused, that stupid-innocent look always apparent, honey eyes gleaming, “we’re running a bit low. What would happen if someone came in and ordered a Rueben, and neither Kiku or Elli could open the jar?”

“Then they could—god forbid!—tell the son-of-a-bitch-that-needs-a-Rueben-at-three-in-the-morning that they’re out?”

“Oh, but Lovi, they could really be craving one,” Feliciano persuaded, stepping closer and offering the jar.

“Then they could just break the fucking jar.”

“What! That’s dangerous! What if some glass were to be mixed in with the kraut!”

“God’s will,” Lovino said sarcastically, taking the jar from Feliciano roughly—though his counterpart just blossomed with victory, “is God’s way. If some poor bastard dies from glass in his Rueben, then it was only meant to be.”

Feliciano pouted at him, “what if _you_ were to die from a Rueben because someone was irresponsible enough to break a jar?”

Lovino, with very little effort—none at all, really—popped the top of the sauerkraut off. Shoving it back into Feliciano’s hands, he leaned in and whispered: “Then I guess it’s meant to be. Turn around, you have a customer, you idiot.”

Feliciano’s pout had grown into something sinister, almost even a smirk, but Lovino had turned on his heel and started towards the back before he could figure out what the kid was thinking. He sighed as he sat. His feet, after running around all day, were throbbing, only adding to the throbbing in his back that he couldn’t seem to pop out.

He was just grabbing at his pencil when it started again. “Lovino!”

“No! Do your job, Feliciano.”

“Lovino! Lovino! Lovino I need your help! I forgot how to do the truck-card thingy!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lovino ground his teeth. _No, Feliciano did not forget how to run truck-cards. He had been running them all fucking night._

Angrily he stepped out again, ran the man’s card through the computer, asking him the various questions he needed to, before slamming the slip that the trucker needed to sign onto the counter and spinning to catch Feliciano’s face inches from his. “Now,” he said, his best glare pointed at the kid, “stop bothering me and let me do my drawer.”

“Thank you so much, Lovi! I really don’t know what I would do without you!”

Lovino shook his head, muttering as he walked: “you’re either the biggest fucktard or the cleverest shit I’ve ever met.”

“Hey, Lovi,” Feliciano said just as Lovino was turning the corner, having sent the trucker away with a grin. His tone was mild.

“Yes?” Lovino snapped.

“Please wait for me.”

“Good ridden,” he growled, tramping to the chair and plotting himself in it. He waited for some stupid cry, but it didn’t come. Sighing with relief, Lovino was finally able to get his chore done.

It only took him thirty-two minutes because he miscounted a couple times.

“I swear!” Lovino promised. The early-morning air was still stifling, a burning eighty-four according to Lovino’s phone (that he hadn’t checked a million times, thank you, because he had been very busy); the clear skies did nothing to relieve fears of the drought continuing. It was the hottest May Kansas had seen since the turn of the century. With each step the gravel of the truck parking lot crunched. “I was missing like fifty dollars no matter how I counted!”

Feliciano giggled. “And you found it?” he asked, a flirting skeptic.

“Finally, yes. I wasn’t going to have the fucking boss thinking I was a thief! I ended up misplacing a damned check.”

“A check?”

“Yeah—I—remember that one Mexican family that came in? The one with like eight kids?”

“Sure,” Feliciano played.

“Well, they paid with a check. It was that one. I ended up dropping it on the way to the back, I guess.” Feliciano was quiet, and feeling that he needed to prove himself, Lovino continued. “Yeah, it was a weird check. Most people just have one of those standards ones, but this one had some Spanish shit written on it. Well, I think it was Spanish. I don’t know Spanish, so I wouldn’t be able to tell you. It was…it was brown. The color, of the check—and the writing. Yeah, and—well I’m sure you could imagine how relieved I felt when I found it!”

The pace had slowed as they neared Feliciano’s Kia. Beneath the void it was black, almost indistinguishable against the horizon that stretched along the Interstate. Lovino’s was a few lots over, ruby red in the sun, crimson here.

“Lucky for you.” Lovino finished, nodding his head and believing his lie the more he spewed about it. A soft dinging ticked off as Feliciano opened his door, the soft light above his dash illuminating the driver’s seat through a tinted window. The boy seemed to hesitate.

“Lovino?” he asked timidly.

Lovino frowned. Shoving his hands into his pockets and turning around—as he had already started walking away with a “Night, idiot” on his lips, responded suspiciously.

“Do you remember how I told you my grandpa was in the hospital?” He wasn’t looking at Lovino, his features had dropped considerably.

“Yeah? Is—he alright?”

Feliciano played with the keys in his hand. “I—No, he’s dead. I got the call this morning.” He laughed, shaking his head, though Lovino could see that the kid was close to tears. “Yesterday morning, actually. Sorry about that!”

Lovino was at a loss for words. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he offered lamely. “I—” he really didn’t know what to say. What was he supposed to say? He never knew the man, Feliciano talked about him sometimes but knowing someone _through_ someone else was a ludicrous version of knowing someone. Still, Lovino tried. Feliciano looked so torn up over it. “D’you know what of? Like, you said he was only going to be in the hospital for a couple days…” he really could have kicked himself right there in the parking lot. _How did he die?_ Yeah, Sensitivity of the Year goes to the fucktard.

“He was supposed to be released on Monday. I guess there was some problems with his heart that the doctor found. I don’t know the whole story,” he almost insisted, shaking his head again with a sad smile, “but I guess that they put him on some medication and the next thing they knew he was getting worse before…” he trailed off, blinking quickly. He shook his head again. Lovino could only imagine what he was feeling. “It’s just—I don’t know!” he laughed. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. I can’t really do anything about it, I know that, but, it’s just, I—I,” he took a deep breath, swiping at his eye and seeming to calm down. Finally looking at Lovino he exhaled. “I don’t know. I just can’t stope thinking about it, I guess.” He giggled. “Doesn’t help that the news was so spontaneous, but I guess that’s Death for you!”

The bright smile he wore hit Lovino with a pang of—well of something. Lovino was never good with emotions, so all he really knew was that he didn’t like it. He was worried for the kid, he decided.

“Yeah,” Lovino agreed quietly. “That’s Death. But, I—it’s alright. That you don’t know. You’re grieving, and that’s okay,” Lovino cringed, looking upwards to try and find something to abduct him. “Just, hey, if you need anything, call me, okay?”

Feliciano hummed his response. “Okay, thanks Lovi! Well, I’m beat. Goodnight! Do we work together tomorrow?”

“No, I’m off tomorrow.”

“Oh! I hope I work with the new girl!”

Lovino rolled his eyes. Grieving one minute, lost in a head full of flirting and pretty girls the next. He really would never understand him. “Be careful,” Lovino teased, “I hear she’s pretty dominant.”

Lovino almost died when Feliciano winked at him. “I don’t mind.”

“Fuck, goodnight, you idiot.” Lovino yelled, starting a quick pace towards his car. He was never good with emotions, but he knew he didn’t like this one either.

Throwing his car door open he groaned, fishing his keys from his pocket and slipping in. Trash littered the passenger side floor. He had promised himself last week that he would clean it, but, alas, today’s mail and Cheeto bag seemed to have added to the mix. He ran his fingers through his hair with a deep sigh. The car’s heat was strangling him. He had to get his AC fixed.

Fuck minimum wage.

He continued to whine to himself internally as he reached for his keys. Suddenly his phone started buzzing. He morphed into his true acrobat-self as he twisted to grab his phone from his back pocket while, at the same time shove his key into the ignition. “Speak,” he said, shrugging the phone between his shoulder and ear as he gave life to the vehicle.

“Lovi?”

It was Feliciano. From what Lovino could tell the kid was full-on crying at this point. “Fuck, Feliciano?”

“Can—Can you come help me?”

* * *

Lovino’s car settled in its unofficial parking spot of the apartment complex. Anytime he and Feliciano had the day off together Feliciano would find someway to wrangle Lovino over, so, naturally, other people in the surrounding buildings had assumed the space right outside the park belonged to the red car. Most of the time Lovino came over was to simply leave again—though they would take Feliciano’s car, as the kid’s AC actually worked—because Feliciano was never one to sit in one place for long. In the past year Lovino learned more about Kansas amusement parks, museums, and other attractions than he had in the twenty-four years he had growing up in it. Stepping out and locking the door, Lovino walked the block-an-a-half to Feliciano’s portion of the complex. It was mostly quiet, taking up about four blocks to house 150 apartments, but Lovino never felt safe walking to and from Feliciano’s at night. So, hiding his insecurity behind a strong face, he hastily sought out Feliciano’s parking space and walked (very quickly) to it.

Feliciano was locking his door. “Thanks,” he giggled at him, wiping his eyes.

Feliciano turned on a film when they got up to his apartment. The living area was clean, spotless, even. Lovino eyed the dustless bookcase and organized CDs and dishless coffee table. He must have cleaned before work. Even now as he fiddled with the coffee pot in the kitchen Lovino could hear him busying himself with something else.

“You alright?” Lovino called.

“Yeah! I just left a mess earlier.”

Lovino tapped his foot, uncertain. He had heard something about people cleaning when they grieved. He wasn’t sure if he should stop it or encourage it. He made his way to the kitchen to help.

“Movie’s about to start.”

“Do you want some popcorn?”

“Sure?”

“Microwave or stove?”

Lovino shook his head. “I don’t care?”

Feliciano beamed brightly at him, digging out kernels and oil. Lovino sighed. Sitting himself on top of the counter he leaned back against a cupboard, listening to the coffee pot whirl and spurt.

It wasn’t long before Feliciano started talking. He always seemed to be talking. He told Lovino stories of his grandfather. How the man had been a truckdriver and had taken Feliciano cross-country with him on multiple occasions; how he quit his trucking job when Feliciano’s mother became ill and had essentially adopted him when she died. He talked about some adventure at a zoo when his grandfather saved him from falling into a lion’s den, and Lovino didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had already shared that story—five times—and another at an art museum when, upon marveling what he thought to be a display, he was laughed at for gushing over a pair of glasses. He told of his grandfathers ‘misadventures’ with women, of his religious background, of all the family they had that were tied to the mob in New York.

The popcorn was done, buttered, and half-way gone by the time he finally started recollecting himself. Lovino had gone from counter-to-chair-to-couch-to-floor-to-couch again as his friend talked. When Feliciano was excited he would throw his hands in the air, get up and act out the story, laughing and looking at the wall as if he were telling the story to someone other than Lovino. Lovino didn’t mind, though. If it was silly or sad, for Feliciano he would rather silly.

Feliciano’s smile was settling again as he sat next to Lovino. “It’s just,” he sighed, “he was such a good man. His death, it was just so _dumb_.”

Lovino chuckled. “Dumb?”

“Well, like, it wasn’t meant to happen, you know? A doctor’s accident!”

Lovino shrugged, taking another handful of popcorn. “It is what it is,” he decided. “Accidents happen all the time. You could be hit by a boss tomorrow.”

“But, in the grander scheme of things what’s the point?” Feliciano cried. “Why would God let this happen? Is there a reason I’m missing? Something better?”

If the situation hadn’t been so inflamed with emotions Lovino might have made a sarcastic comment, or a mean one, but he settled with a shrug of his shoulders. “Dunno.”

“There’s people that die every day; children, lovers, parents! What’s the point of their deaths?”

“Dunno.”

“Is there even a point at all?” Feliciano’s eyes had started to water again.

“Du—”

“If you say ‘dunno’ one more time I’m going to kick you!” Feliciano threatened weakly, wiping his cheek with his sleeve.

Lovino sighed. “Listen, Feli, I don’t know what to tell you,” he admitted. “All I know is that if— _if_ —there’s some grand scheme I’m sure you’ll figure it out one day.” Lovino held back a joke that the reason was so that Feliciano would finally clean his apartment. “Just, if you have faith have faith. There’s not much else you can do.”

“Yeah,” Feliciano agreed weakly. Lovino hated the feeling in his gut that told him he had said something wrong. Sighing, the younger of the two reached for the remote and reactivated the dull television screen. The intro music to the movie had been droning in the back, looping from mellow to dramatic and back throughout their whole conversation. Feliciano pressed _play_ on the title screen.

Sitting back Feliciano pressed into Lovino’s side, staring at the screen with a reflection frown on his face. Lovino had learned long ago that when Feliciano was in a state of…well, anything, he would become some sort of clingy. Hugs and handholding and attempts-at-something-along-the-lines-of-cuddling. He was too intimate a person for Lovino’s taste, and it had taken the better half of the year for Lovino to stop being _so_ stiff. Even in this situation Lovino fought back the urge to push the boy away.

Lovino sighed, lacing his fingers behind his head and propping his feet up on the coffee table. He watched the movie quietly—Saving Private Ryan—getting caught up in the story enough to end up watching it through. Feliciano had fallen asleep long before they even _found_ Ryan, his head resting what Lovino deemed uncomfortably on the arm of the couch and his heels digging into Lovino’s side.

Lovino turned off the television and DVD player. Before leaving he made sure Feliciano’s alarm clock was set and a window propped open, as it looked to be growing into another hot day.

 


	2. Duex

The trill of Lovino's phone is what woke him up. Blearing through his eyelashes, the phone bright in his face despite noon being a curtain away, he saw that it was Feliciano who was calling. Groaning, he silently wondered whether he should ignore the call and go back to bed. As the ringing continued, and his finger didn't press ignore, he answered the call and set it on speaker, setting it onto his pillow again (as the cord wouldn't let it move far from there) as he turned over. If Feliciano was planning on rambling about nothing today, he was going to get another minute of sleep while he did.

"Speak," he said, unsure whether he had said it loud enough.

"I always feel like a whore when you do this to me," Feliciano whined on the other end.

Lovino really should have ignored the call. Today was his day off. He was  _tired_. Taking a long moment to himself, scrubbing a hand down the part of his face not buried in his bedding, Lovino sighed out his nose so aggressively his chest collapsed. "When I do what?" he finally responded.

"When you leave in the middle of the night without saying goodbye!" Feliciano answered, too quickly to have not been anxiously on his tongue.

Lovino didn't have enough energy to roll his eyes. Or reopen them, at that. He just hummed, hoping the vibration would pass on the message. It didn't, and the annoying chide of Feliciano's voice broke into the silence.

"Lovino? Lovino, are you still there?" So close. He had been  _so close_  to being asleep again. "Lovi," Feliciano whined, "answer me."

"What do you want, Feliciano?" Lovino demanded, though there was no bite to his tone. He was too comfortable, too close to dozing off again.

"I just wanted to call and talk. I have to go to work in a few hours and was getting bored. I just woke up and found you weren't here and I was a bit hurt because I still have a bunch of coffee and I made so much because I thought we'd share it but—"

He was babbling. He did this a lot; calling to just talk. And talk. And talk. Lovino didn't know what he did in the past life, but it must have been horrendous. He was probably some murderer for the mafia or something. He was thinking about that, imagining himself as some badass with a gun, sinking further into the warmth of the thin sheet he had traded out for his comforter, before the silence jolted him awake.

Silence. Feliciano wasn't talking.

"What was that?" Lovino asked. He hated himself for asking; he should just leave the air dead and his mind preoccupied with the images that were already dissipating.

"I asked if you wanted to go to church with me on Sunday!" Feliciano chirped.

Really,  _really_  horrendous. "Why?" Lovino drawled, knowing that he wasn't going back to sleep until he hung up. Turning over so that he knew Feliciano would hear him, he continued. "You know I hate that shit."

"I know! But it's the first time since Papa died. I'm kind of nervous."

"Your grandfather lived in Colorado, Feli, he didn't even go to the same church as you."

"I know, but everyone knew that he was going to the hospital and I'm sure someone will ask!"

"Then maybe don't go spewing your life to the goddamn church." Lovino growled.

"Please, Lovi. I'll buy you lunch!" Lunch for too-many hours of people preaching at him. Yes,  _that_  was a wonderful trade-off. "Just don't do what you did last time. And stop smiling, I know you are. What you did to Father Michael was completely inappropriate!"

Lovino smirked through his response. "Yeah, are they going to even let me back in?"

" _Yes._ " Feliciano insisted. "They can't kick you out for asking questions, but please be an adult?" Being scolded by the most immature person he knew. "Just because someone on  _The Big Bang Theory_  says it, or because you read it on a blog—"

"Cracked article," Lovino cut in, very matter-of-factly.

"—doesn't mean that it's true."

"I could say the same for you and your Hebrew fairytales." Lovino mumbled. He was struck with the realization: "Feli, tomorrow is Sunday."

"I know."

That would mean that he wouldn't be able to pull the all-nighter he had been planning. He threw a disappointed glance at the novel on his bedside. He could just not clean today. Or go to church tired, but that would also mean going to work at three exhausted. "Fine," he gave, "on one condition."

"Yes?" Hope. It was the thing Feliciano never ran out of— _ever_.

"You let me get some fucking sleep."

"Oh, I can do that! And we can get some coffee beforehand. We could stop by a Starbucks on the way, or do you want to stop by an actual coffee shop? There's this one—"

"Let me get some fucking sleep  _right now_." Lovino groaned.

"Oh! Right. Sorry, Lovi," he giggled. "I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah," Lovino sighed. Without waiting for Felicaino to respond—actually, rushing so that Feliciano couldn't respond—Lovino pressed out of the call and placed his cell on airplane mode.

Content with this moment of peace, Lovino fell back under the spells of his bed.

Five in the afternoon, a glorious time to wake up. He stretched, enjoying the fact that he had downed a dozen hours of sleep. Reaching for his phone, he turned off airplane mode.

Within the next minute, as his phone refreshed and attached to the network again, he received thirty messages from none other than Feliciano.

Lovino groaned. "You're clingier than my fucking ex!" he yelled at his phone, putting it down and leaving to take a shower. Before jumping in, Lovino ran back to grab it, curious to see what thirty messages was worth.

_2:24 PM_

**Good Morning!**

**Sorry for waking you up earlier (Idk when you're reading this. I'm on mute again huh?)**

Lovino felt a twinge of guilt in his chest but grumbled through it. Yes, Feliciano had been on mute again. Imagine Lovino if he hadn't muted him! He would have been woken up every handful of minutes to silly messages!

_2:50 PM_

**Zoom in to this! Omg!**

Lovino glanced at the photo. It was some horror meme, a girl standing in front of a mirror and a face in the doorway. Lovino rolled his eyes. It didn't look like anything was actually worth thirty messages, but he still kept reading.

**Maybe it's fake?**

**Probably not!?**

What an idiot.

_3:14 PM_

**Boiling eggs is weird**

**Like, how do they not spoil?**

**Uhhh maybe they do!**

_3:19 PM_

**Lol same**

Another image slowly loaded; another meme.

_3:29 PM_

**I'm a clutz and I think I just killed someone…**

**You don't have to worry! They're okay!**

**Very mad, though.**

**Reaaallllly mad**

**Might be hiding in the back**

Lovino almost smiled at the sight of Feliciano hiding in the back of the store, cowering away from some pissed-off customer.

_3:42 PM_

**The new girl is so good at dealing with mad people!**

**Gave me her number, too**

**So now I'm wondering whether dating co-workers is wrong?**

**Vive la beaute 3**

Lovino could imagine his friend's low whistle as he watched the girl. He could picture how the honey stare would soften yet still be swimming with mischievous intentions. The poetic lines he would spew about her, the pick-up lines to her.

_3:55 PM_

**I'm tired**

**Veryyy tired**

**Okay wtf goes on a patty melt? Is this the one with the Thousand Island?**

Lovino couldn't help but shake his head. The kid was the best cook he had ever met, yet when it came to simple ingredients he kept coming up short. It didn't make sense. Lovino didn't dwell on it.

**Zoey helped me because you're a sleeping butthole**

_4:10 PM_

**Hope these don't annoy you when you wake up**

So, he was an aware ass. That was a…plus?

_4:20 PM_

**Gosh it's busy today!**

_4:35 PM_

**Maybe it's the Koreans that are running the Illuminati?**

**Really hear me out.**

**Their hair gel is really popular right? Like with boybands? And who are boy bands popular with?**

**Sad girls Lovino and who runs the world?**

**Girls! It's a cut-and-paste plan!**

The messages ended there. Lovino assumed that Feliciano had been hit with the start of the dinner rush. Without answering he turned on the water and got in. It was freezing at first, but Lovino didn't mind. He could hear someone from the above apartment stomping around as he washed his hair. It would stop and start before repeating the pattern. It was almost melodic, reminding Lovino that he should have turned on some music. Feliciano's texts had distracted him, and now he wasn't pretending that he could rap.

Just like that, his mind was back onto the string of texts. He could have sworn the new girl's name had been something else—Kim or something. Who the fuck was Zoey? Clean and letting the water fall down his back, Lovino tried to remember the texts.

_Good morning_

_Something about being muted_

_A meme?_

He groaned. If his memory got any worse, he would have to accuse his parents of being stoners when he was in the womb. The time stamps had been pretty spread out, hadn't they? Two or three hours? Usually when he played the  _secrete message_  game the messages were within an hour of each other. Still, Lovino could never put his finger on the kid. He was weird.

Sighing and turning the water to ice-cold, he decided in his last seconds of being able to think that he would give it a try.

The warmth of the room was welcome when he stepped out. He had been under the cold long enough to clear the steam, the mirror determinably useable. Wrapping a towel around his waist he scooped up his phone, turning on a Sage Francis playlist as he got dressed. Or,  _dressed_. Meaning shorts and literally nothing else.

What? He lived alone. People were lucky he didn't walk around nude. (He had the first few weeks of living alone, but he had accidently walked out of the apartment without thinking, and, well, he may have scarred a child and gotten the cops called. Thankfully the cop let him off with a warning and not a sexual assault charge.)

Scrambling to find a piece of scratch paper and a pen, Lovino sat down at his coffee table and pulled up Feliciano's messages. Feliciano had never told him that he was doing it, but Lovino had figured it out because he had been a big nerd in school, top of his Knowledge Bowl team and founder of the Cryptology club. Would have looked good on a college application if he had ever filled one out.

 _Morning for you earlier…_ maybe  _Good sorry…_

No, that wasn't it. Maybe he had started later?

_It's probably boiling weird… It's Koreans are the really me…_

No. So he wasn't on that one today. Last words?

_Morning huh OMG fake not…_

First words?

_Good sorry zoom maybe…_

Lovino sighed. No, it didn't seem to be word order. Was it the letters? It could be absolutely nothing, but…he reread the message where Feliciano had used the name Zoey. Who was Zoey?

He couldn't help but grin, victorious. "Fucking A's," he said aloud.

Taking the first letter of every message he looked over the list. GSANPBLFULIYVRMTGSVIVOZHGMRTSG. He knew Feliciano's favorite code when it didn't come to mixing up the word order. Scribbling down the letters on the receipt he had dug from the trash, Lovino quickly figured it out.

**Thank you for being there last night**

Lovino shook his head. The kid was the most open person he had ever met.  _Thank you_ s and  _I love you_ s were always on his tongue. Why would he hide this? The last message he had hidden was about him being sad after a hard break up. Lovino had gotten that, he knew how devastating those could be, but this?

"You're an idiot," Lovino sighed under his breath, quickly writing out a series of letters he would make into his own message. He never told Feliciano that he knew but was sure the kid had caught on by now—Lovino always responded with whatever code Feliciano threw at him. Today was no different. ULXFHLMBLFIDLIP

**Focus on your work**

Except, unlike Feliciano, he was considerate and grouped his message as a paragraph, separating the letters by periods. The kid had known what he wanted to say from message one—why had he spread it out? Feliciano was a walking mystery.

It was fifteen minutes later when Feliciano responded.

* * *

_5:33_

**Wanna come over tonight? The church is closer to my house**

_5:37_

**No I'm busy tonight. What time does it start**

_5:37_

**10:30**

_5:54_

**OK**

* * *

He knew he had killed the conversation, but the action novel in his hands was too good to put down for long. He wondered if he would be a good alcoholic cop. He probably would be the best. Better than this fucker, anyway.

* * *

He was exhausted the next morning. Feliciano had called to remind him to dress nice, waking him up at eight. The kid probably got home around midnight, so either he was tired too or had really stuck to that eight-hour rule. Dressing in a nice-r pair of jeans and t-shirt Lovino checked over his apartment to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. He should be able to get out of there with enough time to come home and change, but just-in-case he brought his work shirt with him.

Stepping out he was met with an early morning sun. Spring was in action, the lazy winter sun picking up the pace. Lovino yawned, locking his door behind him. His apartment landed near the middle of the second floor (there were four floors), so he had to walk down the railed path to get to the stairs—and then back again to get to his car. The metallic paint gleamed and sparkled in the warmth. There was a group of children running around the building. There was a small patch of trees in the back and kids often times played around it, tag or hid-and-seek or something else that caused them to squeal and cry and yell "You broke the rules! I'm telling mom!" It was annoying, but Lovino kind of liked it. Kept the complex lively. He especially liked coming home to see a bunch of dotted glow-sticks running around in their neon colors, playing some version of capture the flag. Lovino would sit outside on his balcony with a cup of coffee and just watch. Part of him because it was relaxing, the other part worried.

There had been a kid a few months ago that had disappeared. Lovino had seen him around. Once even yelled at him after he hit Lovino's car with a basketball on accident. Gabriel Rodriguez. His parents still lived on the first floor, but their car was always gone. There was still a MISSING PERSONS poster on the pin board in the vending-and-ice machine room.

Lovino shook the thought from his head, slipping into his car.

He met his companion outside of Feliciano's complex.

"Good morning!" Feliciano cheered, putting his hand up. Lovino put his car in park and rolled down his window.

"You promised me coffee," Lovino said, looking down at his phone. It was almost 9:45, they had enough time.

"Of course!" he agreed. "Go park and we'll take my car."

Lovino complained in his head that he would have to walk, but followed the suggestion anyway. Feliciano showed off the locally-owned café he had discovered the week before.

"See! Look, if they baked it yesterday it's half off!"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Your metabolism won't last forever," he teased.

"Hey, I go to the gym!"

Lovino grabbed one of the discounted muffins and looked it over. Looked fine to him. "Yeah, just because you own a membership doesn't mean you actually go."

Glancing up at Feliciano he was met with a raspberry. Lovino sighed. "You're such a kid," but still, he laughed a little.

Lovino paid for their breakfasts, telling Feliciano that he had promised to pay for lunch, and they sat outside the shop near Feliciano's car to eat. Feliciano sat on his trunk, the metal groaning under his weight, while Lovino sat on the pavement, back against the tire.

He was deciding that the muffin didn't taste old when Feliciano started his long tangents. It was something about the church people.

"Just don't be worried. I'm sure they deal with this stuff all the time," Lovino attempted to sooth.

His coffee did taste old, though. Weird how that worked out.

"I know! But every time they do they put all the attention on the family!"

"You like attention, Feli," Lovino pointed out.

"Not that kind. It's weird! And I'm the only one! So it won't be like a whole family that's getting talked to, just me! And then they end off with a prayer for the deceased and the family—again, just me!—and then, even when ceremony is over they all come up and swarm you and offer to bring you food."

"Sounds awful," Lovino said into his coffee. Maybe it didn't taste that old. He wondered what kind of brew it was. He should ask.

"It is! And what if I start crying, Lovi? Then they'll never ever leave me alone. They all mean well, and I feel really bad about complaining because I know that, but what am I supposed to do? I don't know the answers to all their questions! I don't even know when the funeral is going to be or where! Papa didn't buy a plot or anything, so it's all up to me!"

The kid was in hysterics above Lovino. "Just have you mom do it." Lovino tried.

"You know I can't do that!"

"Then why are we even going, Feli?" Lovino said seriously. "Just skip church until you figure everything out."

"I—I don't want to do that!" he cried.

"Why?"

Feliciano was silent. Lovino looked up at him. He had barely touched the chocolate croissant he had chosen, and his coffee steamed indicated that the cup was still full. He stared into his cup, tears streaking his cheeks. Lovino sighed, wiping the crumbs off his hands and onto his pants and putting his coffee onto the pavement. Standing, he lightly punched the kid in the arm. Feliciano looked up, surprised.

"If you feel too bombarded we'll leave, okay? And, if the swarm is too powerful, I'll distract them." Lovino winked at him. "Put on a show those goody-two-shoes will never forget."

Feliciano sniffed, smiling at him. "Thank you, Lovi," he said quietly.

"Yeah, yeah, now eat and let's go."

Feliciano nodded.

* * *

Stiff people in stiff clothing. Lovino sighed as they walked through the door. He had been to church plenty. His parents were religious, so all throughout his childhood he was shuffled into church groups. When he was a teen they had even added a guitar. The adult ceremonies were the worst of the bunch, though. Just boring preaching and politics.

Feliciano had run off somewhere, leaving Lovino alone behind the group of people trying to take a seat. Lovino wondered if anyone would notice if he had headphones in. Checking his pockets, he silently cursed at himself. He had forgotten them in his car. Feliciano was back.

"Fill this out."

"What is it?"

"A guest sign in. I forgot to give you one last time you were here," he admitted with a laugh.

"Do I have to? I really don't like being associated with these types of places."

"Just fill it out." Feliciano scolded.

Lovino looked over it. Address, email, phone—boxes he would leave blank. Filling out his name as Billy Osborne, he handed the paper back.

"Really?" Feliciano groaned.

Lovino grinned at him. "Prove me wrong."

Feliciano rolled his eyes, but it was different than when Lovino did it. Full of good humor and warmth. A man came up to them.

"Feliciano!" he greeted. "How is your grandfather doing?"

Lovino wondered if these people had ever heard of small talk.

"I—" Feliciano began, fidgeting with the paper in his hands. "Good morning," he opted out for.

"I hope he's doing well?" the man continued. Lovino recognized him as one of the 'recruiters' for the church. He wasn't sure what the term was, or care, for that matter, he just knew that they were at every church function handing out flyers and, when away from the church, talking it up.

"He's not," Feliciano said quietly. "He passed away."

Lovino shoved his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat. He felt awkward here but plowed through it. The man addressed him for the first time.

"Good morning," Lovino said, trying not to glare.

"Good morning," the man echoed, putting his hand out. Lovino took it in his own. "I don't believe I've seen you—" recognition spread across his face, his tone darkening a bit. Glaring was no longer an issue, now Lovino tried not to smirk as he dropped his arm away. "Ah, I was sure you wouldn't be back." He was trying to be polite, Lovino could appreciate that.

Lovino took the guest sheet from Feliciano and gave it to him. "Neither did I, but you know, callings and all. Here, I'm documented this time. C'mon, Feli, let's sit down before the service starts. I'd  _hate_  to miss it."

Grabbing the kid by the bicep Lovino practically dragged him to a bench. It was wooden and uncomfortable.

"Haven't these people ever heard of 'heavy subjects?'" Lovino growled.

"He didn't know, Lovi," Feliciano defended. "He probably expected good news."

Lovino rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Whatever."

Just as Feliciano had predicted the ceremony ended with his grandfather's name being on everyone's mind. Lovino had sat as close to the door as humanely possible, so when it came to getting out it would be easy. That was if Feliciano wasn't such a people person.

"Feliciano," someone would call, and the kid would stop and turn and greet them. Then they would give their condolences and—this went on forever! Lovino grabbed his shoulders, whispering in his ear from behind:

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

"We will right after I'm done talking to Sophia," he argued back quietly.

Then it was three other fucking people. Right after…right after…right after.

"Feliciano, the service ended thirty minutes ago. I'm hungry. Can we  _leave now_?"

Feliciano looked at him guiltily. Turning back to the pair he had been talking to he tried at a smile, but the thirty minutes of constant questions-and-answers seemed to have depressed him. "Be, I'm sorry, you guys. We have to go!"

"Just remember to call if you need anything," the woman said.

"You will be in our prayers."

Yadiyada, Lovino was euphoric when they finally got out the doors. Feliciano's feet dragged, Lovino finding himself practically dragging the kid. When they found the black car in the clearing parkinglot Lovino sighed.

"Y'alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," Feliciano mumbled.

"Do we work together today?" Lovino offered weakly. He rarely looked at anyone else's schedule. If he had to be there, it would be hell, he didn't care who was being dragged down.

Feliciano suddenly broke into a huge grin. "You work tonight! Yeah!"

Lovino chuckled. What a fool.

* * *

It was two am when Lovino finally finished his book. "What a fucking ride," he said, placing it on his coffee table and going into the kitchen to clean up a little before he went to bed. His phone sat near the sink. Picking it up he found another long string of messages from Feliciano. Leaning against the counter top he scrolled through them. Another secret message? Running it through the same code from earlier he hit the jackpot. The message conflicted him.

**I think I'm losing my faith**

Lovino, ignoring the voice in his head that insisted the kid was asleep, pressed call.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Who else is devastated by_ Cracked _laying off their original cast?_ Small Beans _is where it's at now. (Fun fact, I got third place for one of their photoplasty contests and have tried to write for them (I wrote it on Hamilton, though, and that was too popular at the time haha))_

_Sorry this is such a slow burn plot-wise, but we're introducing a good deal of concepts early are a few other things that we need to introduce between these two and their texting, so sorry for everyone who hates the text conversations. I hate them too cx_


	3. Trois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to tell you guys last chapter, but Gabriel Rodriguez is HRE

_-So I guess leave a message if you want!_

Lovino growled at the sharp beep that told him Feliciano wasn't planning on answering the phone. It was early, and the kid was probably asleep, but as Lovino put his phone back next to the sink and crossed his arms, mindlessly biting at his thumb nail, he couldn't help but be worried. Feliciano was too fucking secretive. Lovino wasn't dumb, he'd come across plenty of memes about depression or whatever the fuck teenage girls on Tumblr called it. Feliciano was a real person, though. He seemed to be genuinely fine—Lovino was being unreasonable. He was just going through a rough time. The kid would open up in his own time. Lovino would hate it, too. Feliciano would get too touchy and would cry too much.

Picking up his phone he tried for a fourth time. The beep annoyed him more than before.

He couldn't just show up at his apartment. That was rude. He would hate it if people just decided to show up to his place unannounced. He should just go to bed and deal with it in the morning—or, in the afternoon. The workman's morning. Kicking away from the counter, Lovino scrolled through his music app and chose a random station as he turned off the kitchen and Livingroom light. The brooding silence was broken, making Lovino feel a bit better. He placed his device on its charger in his room, turning up his music so that he could hear it as he walked across the room and opened the sliding door to the small balcony.

"Small" overshot its size. Lovino could get a good three steps in before his stomach came up to the wooden railing. He kept the outside light off, summer beetles having already started, the reason he closed the door behind him, muffling his music, and stood in the early morning winds. They had picked up considerably, threatening to topple the barren trees.

Lovino loved the wind. The faster, the better. Here, in his own little pocket of chaos, he was able to calm down. Filling his lungs, Lovino watched the trees swat and bat.

He stood there just thinking. His mind wandered from Feliciano to the book he had just finished. From there it jumped to another list of novels and short stories he had read recently. There was one that stuck out, a short story a customer had recommend him. It was a humorous read. Some Italian brat had gotten themselves cursed by a traveling gypsie and over the course of some hundreds of words had been beaten with a fish, bitten by a dog, and thrown into some adventure with a runaway prisoner. Lovino smiled at it now; it had been an enjoyable read, and he mentally made note to check out more stories by that author.

Just as he was growing bored of the scene, just as he was getting ready to turn back into the room, back to the music and his worries, a shadow ducked and bowed on the ground. Lovino blinked. Surely, he had imagined it. No one in the area would be stupid enough to be walking through the trees right now—not with the winds steadily picking up, no doubt a tornado warning pinging against his pillow ten feet away. He watched intently, trying to catch it again.

There. This time, it was accompanied by a flash of color. A bright orange hoodie, running through the trees. Lovino realized that it was a kid.

"Hey!" Lovino screamed. "Go home before you get impaled!" His words weren't loud enough to cut through the roar. "Fuck!" he groaned. Kids were so fucking dumb. Probably snuck out to get high or something.

Turning back into his room and closing the door, Lovino quickly made his way to his front door. He rushed across the floor and to the staircase, jogging to the back of the building. He used a cautious arm to protect his face.

The trees were scarier on the ground. The world was made up of a spectrum of shadows, no balcony lights accompanying his journey. He should have turned his on.

"When I find this fucking kid," Lovino said to himself, careful steps, slow pace, searching eyes, "I'm going to wring their fucking neck."

The drought had turned the grass into plastic, crunching with every step. It shot Lovino's anxiety up tenfold as he continued, screaming out "Kid!" as he did so. He felt dumb, he felt bitter, he felt extremely aware of every sound and branch—what was he even doing out here? If some kid wanted to die, how was that his problem?

Just as he was about to turn and stomp back to his apartment, he saw it. Up ahead, a small figure hooded in orange. Lovino's neck tingled as he made his way towards it.

"Fuck! Go fucking home!" He shouted, hating every step closer to the figure.

Kid. Why the fuck was he so scared right now?

He bowed as to not-get-decapitated-by-a-branch, out stretching his arm to force the kid to stop walking away from him.

"Go home—"

His words caught in his throat.

Just as his hand settled on the hoodie the kid turned. Gabriel fucking Rodriguez.

The wind wasn't blowing enough, weren't loud enough—didn't distort the shadows or trees enough to explain what Lovino saw. His whole body tensed, his chest froze, all he could do was stare and recognize just how cold the hoodie was. It felt like ice—literally. And the kids face.

The kid's fucking face was fucking blue and looked so fucking frozen in place—a blank stare, blond hair white and fucking frozen and stiff and Lovino couldn't fucking do anything but fucking stand there and stare because this kid was fucking missing and now in the middle of the warmest fucking May in history during a fucking drought Lovino stared into a fucking frost-bitten child's face and fuck.

He remembered yelling at this kid. The tanned skin and bright blue eyes that laughed at him, despite a mother's teachings making him apologize. Lovino remembered it. This wasn't it. This wasn't it. Pale, too pale, what the fuck had happened.

"Gabriel," he finally managed. "You—" why was he trying to act normal? He should be running for help—or just running to get away—"Go home."

He couldn't turn away. He couldn't drop his hand from the dry ice. He couldn't do anything!

And that's when it happened. Just as Lovino was sure he was stuck in this trance forever, just as frozen as the kid, Gabriel's features changed. No longer were his purple lips agape, no longer did his eyes seem to not register anything—staring forward into Lovino's chest—no longer did he stand motionless. Now, now he  _fucking blinked, looking Lovino in the eye and smiling._

Smiling.

Fucking. Smiling.

Lovino was no hero. He was okay with this. Retracting his hand with a shriek he turned and ran. Branches hit him as he ran through them, but he was determined not to be a fucking horror movie trope and trip now. He fell into the corner of the building, looking back to make sure he wasn't being followed, hissing and grabbing his shoulder. He continued on, groping the railing as he flew up the stairs, three at-a-time, finding his hand on the doorknob to his apartment before he could register being on his floor. Lovino locked it.

"What the fuck," he repeated to himself ten million times. "What the fuck was that?"

He didn't go into his room, afraid of what he'd see through the clear patio door. Had he locked his patio? No, he didn't. His music swam through the air. Once something that calmed his nerves now killed him slowly. He tried to listen past hurried words and beats. His ears strained to hear into his room, for the small indication that his patio door was being opened—they stained to hear outside his main door, for a creak of small, frozen footsteps.

The wind being so loud and abrasive didn't help.

What the fuck was he going to do? What could he do? Was he safe here? No! What the fuck had happened to that kid!

If he had been religious, he would have prayed. Instead, he chewed on his finger nail and attempted some course of action.

He could call the cops, report the sight of a missing child. That was the best thing to do.

But his phone was in his room and he couldn't hear past the music to know if it was safe to wander past his spot, ducking near the door, afraid of the peep hole just as much as he was his patio door. He felt surrounded by darkness, unaware of every corner.

As the moments stretched on, his plans always sticking him right back to his spot, he started feeling more and more ridiculous. It was a burning hope that sunk to his gut, stirring in his natural ability to be irritated by any and everything. Was he really going to stay here? For how long? Until the sun fucking rose?

Yes, that seemed to be the plan.

Good plan.

The winds shook his doorknob, a sharp metallic sound by his ear. Wait, was that the wind? Was someone trying to get in? The knob jiggled and shook, the door following suit. A deep creaking, hollowing, bowing. Lovino stared with wide eyes.

He could feel eyes on him. From the front or the back? The door got louder and louder until the only thing Lovino could hear was its howling screams and shrieks, wood giving and snapping.

Louder, louder, but still not loud enough to drown out the small sound from behind him. Barely anything. The giving of two pressures, the sliding, the small creak.

His patio door.

And above it all? Above the eyes, the wood, the sliding? Above it all stood his music, cutting off.

Above it all came the ringing of his phone.

The world stopped. Lovino didn't know where to look, where to stand, he was surrounded. His heart clung to his feet. Another sharp thrill.

It was potential help.

His patio door.

Why had the wind stopped?

More ringing.

Lovino took a deep breath through his nose, gathering courage—or whatever that shallow thing adrenaline held was. He was aware that every step put him in the view of the peep hole. He was aware that when he was close enough to stare into his room from his coffee table it would be too late to run from either end. He was aware that the ringing of his phone wouldn't last forever. He was aware of his thrumming pulse and the silence between piercing echoes.

Still, he had to fight. Or whatever fucking idiots fueled themselves with in situations like this.

He was at the coffee table. His room was lit brightly compared to the rest of the apartment. He could see most of his bed, the edge of his buzzing phone, the dirty pile of clothes by his bed. No one stood in his room. Not that he could see.

He was running out of time, he needed to get to his phone  _now_.

He started forward, feeling ludicrous and now more at-ease than ever as he was walking towards light. Just as he was about to cross the threshold, he stopped.

A summer beetle flew across the room, hitting the side of his wall with a dull thud before recovering and darting towards the ceiling light.

The phone stopped ringing.

Silence.

And then, everything broke into chaos when his music shouted back to life. Lovino screamed, running backwards just as the shadow of a figure came into his doorway. Orange hoodie, purple face. Lovino tripped over his coffee table, kicking and scrambling, throwing whatever he could find as he backed himself to the wall.

Haloed by the brightly lit room, the figure, the kid, the fucking fucking  _fuck_ , stooped down to Lovino's new level—though he, it, didn't need to stoop much, being a  _fucking missing_ kid _!?_ —and stared at Lovino, its frozen features restored.

Ajar lips quivered.

"Me," it said, unfocused eyes. Its words were as frosted as its face, its clothing, its everything. "Find me."

And then, just like that, it blinked again and stared Lovino in he eyes again. Lovino pressed himself further against the wall. "Find me." It repeated. "Find me find me find me!" It grabbed Lovino's shoulders, passing on the burning cold, seeping the room of all warmth. Its jaw fell, purple lips accompanied by cracked teeth. "FIND ME FIND ME FIND ME!"

Lovino closed his eyes and coward away. He couldn't do anything. Too cold, too afraid, too helpless.

"FIND ME FIND ME FIND ME!"

And then the world was silent.

The first ring of his phone brought the first beat of warmth back to his chest.

Blinking past terrified tears, Lovino found himself alone.

Instead of balling against the wall, Lovino picked himself up, shakily but enough to walk, and entered his room. His patio door was closed, and as he stared into it all he could see was his reflection. He picked his phone up with trembling hands.

"Hello?" he asked the receiver, his shoulders still shivering and stomach empty.

"Sorry I didn't answer! I was taking a shower. What's up? Why'd you call me so much?" It was Feliciano. What was happening? What just happened?

"I—" Lovino tried to sound normal, but he couldn't. A spell of speechlessness sat on his chest.

"Lovino? Are you alright?" Feliciano asked, suddenly worried.

"I—" Lovino tired again. "I—"

No, he wasn't alright? How the fuck did words work again?

"Lovino! Are you hurt! Lovino!"

He couldn't say anything past the incessive "I—I—I."

"I'm coming over," Feliciano declared, "stay on the phone with me. Do I need to call an ambulance?"

No. Yes?

"Lovino!"

Feliciano was coming over? What if Gabriel—whatever that thing was—was still lurking? All he could see was his reflection.

" _Lovino_!"

"Don't," finally, a fucking word. "Don't come. I—I—"

"Lovino, just stay where you are," Lovino could hear the opening and closing of a door from the other end. No doubt Feliciano was already to his car by now. "Just listen to me, okay? Uhm, try to breath. Lovino if you can speak just tell me what's wrong, okay? You're not just sleep talking, are you?" The nervous giggle the kid let off was anything but light-hearted. Lovino didn't know why he was so worried. Countless times Lovino just mumbled back to him during their phone conversations. What was different this time?

"Don't come." He tried to repeat.

The words still circled his head. Find him? Where, why, was he dead?

No, he couldn't have been. Lovino was…he was overworked. There was no way that any of that had been real. He was hallucinating after a long day. It was too early in the morning, they were just shadows playing tricks on his mind.

Feliciano's voice droned away. Lovino put his phone down, staring at his reflection. He thought of turning off his light but was afraid of the dark. Shadows swirled just outside his doorway.

Pulling himself onto his bed he tried to forget everything as he stared. Find a missing kid that came to him as a ghost? What the fuck was happening? Last time Lovino checked, this was real life, not some fucking teen drama with ghosts. Still, the kid  _was_  missing. He  _did_  need to be found. But Lovino was the last person that  _could_  find him! If this was a fucking ghost why wasn't he going to the cops? What was so fucking special about Lovino? Nothing! Nothing. At. Fucking. All.  _Fuck_!

A sudden pounding on his front door brought him back to reality. He had lost track of time, staring now into his bedding becoming more-and-more irritated. More banging, less heart-action.

"Lovino! Answer your door!"

Feliciano. Lovino had never been so happy to hear such an annoying voice. Jumping up Lovino quickly strode into his living room, unlocking his door and opening it.

Feliciano looked out of breath. "Lovino—" he started, but Lovino cut him off by pulling him into the apartment, quickly shutting and locking the door again. "Lovino, what's wrong?"

"I told you not to come!" Lovino yelled. He finally found the Livingroom and kitchen light, flicking it on.

"Why not? Why did you call me?"

Lovino was pacing back into the Livingroom. "What?"

"Why did you call me?" Feliciano repeated.

Why did he—fuck, that's why he had been so worried. Lovino never called Feliciano. In the last year there had been only one occasion, and that was because the kid had been thirty minutes late for his shift. Now there was a sudden four calls and—Lovino groaned.

"Fuck!" he cursed.

"What?" Feliciano tried again.

"I was calling to make sure you were okay!" Lovino admitted, his mind still miles elsewhere. "You don't just tell people that you've fucking lost your faith or whatever and not expect them to be fucking worried!"

"I—" Feliciano stammered, "I—well I didn't—"

Lovino wished he had a couch. He needed to get his life together. Sitting on the floor at his table, Lovino rested his head against his hands.

Feliciano fell to him. "What's wrong?" he asked, timid now.

"I—I don't  _know_." Lovino barked. What was he supposed to say? "I don't fucking know! What the fuck!" He pressed against his temples until they pulsed.

"Calm down!" Feliciano demanded, pressing a hand against the other's back.

Lovino was officially angry. At himself, mostly. Maybe it had been the muffin. Was it drugged? Half-off drug-muffins. Everyone knew that LSD was only fun if you knew you were tripping!

"Do you remember that kid I told you about?" Lovino finally said. It was quiet, but he needed to tell someone before he started punching the wall. He really needed the deposit back.

"What kid?"

"The one that went missing a while ago?"

Feliciano was taken aback. He seemed almost nervous.

Lovino shot him a glance. He had gone pale. Lovino rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I'm not some killer," he sighed.

"Well I'm sure—" Feliciano started, another nervous giggled.

Another eye-roll. "No, it's just. I have a—I have a bad feeling about it." He said carefully. "It's been months now. He went missing in December."

FUCK.

"Why are you worried about it now?" Feliciano asked. "You haven't said anything about it since it happened."

"I know—" Lovino trailed. "It's just, I don't know. I don't know!" He growled, letting his head fall out of his hands and hit the table. The dull thwang caused him to become lightheaded, a white-hot pain spreading across his eyes, but he was okay with all that. "I…don't know."

Feliciano hummed, probably trying to think of something to say. Lovino would have taken pride in being able to shut him up if the situations were different. His stomach was still a sickly void.

"Well, maybe you can ask the kid's parents tomorrow about it." Feliciano offered weakly. "I don't think beating yourself up about it now will help at all." Lovino was about to answer, but Feliciano continued, unaware. "If you'd like we can brainstorm! You know, write down everything you remember. Suspicious people, any memory of the kid, uhm, anything that could be deemed as evidence! Maybe you're thinking about it now because you're remembering something that could incriminate someone. You know, find them! I'm sure the kid's parents would be so happy to be reunited with their kid!"

Feliciano actually sounded happy. Lovino didn't have the heart to tell him his sinking suspicion of the kid's state. Happy reunions weren't what he saw.

Still, Felicaino's vibrant being was a change of pace. Lovino lifted his head. "Yeah, okay," he quietly agreed.

Feliciano beamed at him. "It'll be like one of those movies!" He crowed. Lovino just shook his head. "Let's get some sleep for now, though. You look super tired," he laughed.

Lovino wasn't sure if he'd be able to sleep. There was too much happening in his head. December wasn't cold enough to freeze much. There had been a deep frost in February—had the kid lasted that long? Or maybe he had been taken somewhere else? Somewhere where it was cold in December.

* * *

Feliciano had stayed the night. Lovino was grateful, though he was also completely uncomfortable because Feliciano had insisted on sharing the bed. Lovino ended up sleeping on the floor, insisting that it was fine—he  _liked_ sleeping on the floor. In the morning they brainstormed (Lovino grumpy from lack of sleep and a cramped neck) but came up with very little. Lovino hadn't seen anything! He was useless in this investigation. They had even knocked on the parent's door, hoping that the lack of a car didn't mean the lack of the people, but where disappointed in the end.

All that Lovino knew was that the Kansas sun, bleating against the earth, almost a hundred degrees at noon, was suddenly his favorite thing in the whole world.

Feliciano had the day off. He promised something about going to the police department, but Lovino really didn't care at this point. He was extremely pissed at everything. Just, everything.

His manager would be pleased to see him, he was sure.

Three-o-clock sharp, Lovino walked in the backdoor to his work. Clocking in and moving to count his drawer, he was intercepted by the brunette woman. "Please try to be here a couple minutes early so you don't put others behind."

"If I'm not clocked in I'm not working," he snapped at her. "If the boss doesn't want to pay overtime, tell 'em to get some more fucking people on shift."

She bit her tongue, but Lovino could see the animosity in her face. Shoving past her he continued on his path.

He did his duty, switching registers with the new girl. "I'm going to go check the showers," he called over to Elizaveta, not waiting for a response before leaving. He took longer than was necessary, mumbling to himself something about fuckers and their messes. He decided he needed some coffee—some more coffee—and finally came out of he the rest area to go and receive some.

"Lovino," Elizaveta called, intercepting his course of action.

"Yeah?"

"Can I talk with you for a minute?" She asked.

Lovino knew that tone-of-voice. It was the one she used every time he was in trouble. Sighing, he bit back a response and simply did as he was told. The new girl eyed him as he was taken into the back, into the boss's office, all the way until Elizaveta closed the door. The office was simple, a desk against the side wall with a computer and stack of paperwork. A filing cabinet also filled a bit of the small room, and it was this that Elizaveta now dug through.

"What is this about?" Lovino asked, trying not to sound too perturbed.

She didn't answer, just kept digging. Finally, she turned. She held a thin stack of paperwork. "It has come to my awareness that you are unhappy with your position here."

He was an adult. He wasn't going to roll his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Well, someone told me that you were—" he didn't even need to pay attention to the rest of her statement. She did this a lot. Take what she believed to be happening and say  _someone_  told her. It irritated him beyond all else.

"Well, I think  _someone_  just wants to gossip," he said back. She handed him the paperwork. Looking it over, he honestly was confused. "What is this?"

"An application."

An application? Did that mean-! "Are you firing me?" He could feel the heat rise in his chest.

"No," she said, though she drug out the word as if to say "Not exactly."

"Then why are you privately handing me an application?" he demanded. He didn't give a fuck about his tone.

"Because I thought you might be interested in a change of pace." He could have laughed. "As of right now you still work here. But, if you were to decide to leave, I would recommend this."

What was the fucking angle here? Lovino really, really needed some coffee. His phone dinged in his pocket—probably Feliciano with news that there was no new news.

"Why?" he asked.

She shrugged, walking to the door.

"What—you guys are running short on fucking employees, as if you're just doing this to be nice!"

She was gone, silent to his demands. Lovino growled, cursing after her silently. He caught the new girl's eye and found himself sending her an undeserved death glare.

His whole life was falling apart, it felt.

He glanced over the application. It was for a position as a truck-driver. He was about to crumple it up and throw it away, but something possessed him to keep it. He would revisit the idea after draining the pot of caffeine waiting for him. Quickly, he checked his phone. Like he had predicated, it was Feliciano. But-

_3:18_

**Come over ASAP**

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

_I'm so good at writing fluffy humor—don't you agree?_

_Shout-out to_ The Laws of Amour _on AO3 by DamToti. No reason why other than community or some shit. It's a good GerMano and ItaCest fic at, like, a handful of words. If you go to it from here, comment "Carrots"_

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE**

_Okay, so I didn't address this last chapter because I was rushing to get it published before work, but "Feliciano's favorite code" is something called the Atbash Cipher. It's literally the easiest code ever, I've been using it since the third grade (I write it as fluently as I write actual English). A becomes Z, B becomes Y, C becomes X, etc._

_You've got to keep this one code (because I'm nice) to catch the secrete things Feliciano says. Lovino is a cocky ass, and he thinks he catches everything, but he doesn't. And, because this is in Lovino's POV that means, unless you the audience are on top of the game, you too will be unaware of new information being presented._


	4. Quatre

Coffee really did do wonders. It was midnight when he got to Feliciano's front door and Lovino was fully alert; ready for whatever the kid had in store for him. He hadn't even the chance to knock before the door was thrown open.

"Lovino!" Feliciano yelled, "what took you so long?"

"Uh, the speed limit?"

Feliciano rolled his eyes, though there was no irritation in his face. "Come in, I made fried roman."

Just as he had warned, as Lovino stepped into the door he was hit with the overwhelming aroma of grilled spam and soy sauce. The apartment seemed to have all the lights on, blinding in comparison to the outside world, but warm and welcoming and orange. Lovino took his place on the couch, eyeing the stacked manila folders.

"So, what's the news?" he asked as Feliciano rushed a bowl of steaming noodles into his hands. The kid seemed excited, and it honestly made Lovino more nervous than ever.

"The news is that the case is closed!" Feliciano chirped, taking a bounced seat beside him.

Lovino could feel his face furrowing with confusion. "What? Closed?"

"Yeah! They found the killer!"

So, he was killed? Wait,  _what_? "What?" Lovino asked, his inner monologue too curious to stay contained. "What do you mean they found the killer? There's been no news on the subject. There's still Missing Person signs up? Are you sure?"

Feliciano dipped his head in an excited nod, tearing one of the folders open. "Yeah! Look at this!" He pulled out an image of what looked to be a mugshot. It was of a gruff looking man, blond, with a nasty sneer and face full of stubble. Just the image made Lovino's skin crawl. "Mathias Kohler," Feliciano continued. "Gabriel's  _real_  father."

Lovino took the mugshot. He could see the similarities between this man and the kid. "So, he confessed?" Lovino asked.

"Well, no, he was found dead!"

"What? And don't sound so fucking happy."

"Sorry," he said airily, the glee on his features only eccentricating, "its just, so interesting!"

"What do you mean he was found dead?"

Feliciano dug through his stack of folders, finding what he was looking for. Another image, only this one made Lovino's whole body become sick. It was another close-up of the man's face, only this time it was blue and bloated beyond recognition; skin around the eye sockets had swollen to the point of drooping away from the skin, leaving dark splotches to combat a dead, milky-white stare. The color of his iris were lost. "Fuck!" Lovino said, pushing the image away. He was ready to puke. "Warn me before showing me shit like that!"

"Sorry!" Another feigned apology. "But he was found in Trinity Lake early January. The police records say that he kidnapped Gabriel after escaping from a detention hold in Texas. They speculate that they had been close to catching him, and that's why he drove into the lake."

Lovino put his untouched food down and read through the files Feliciano handed him. It seemed to all come together—well, except for the whole ghost-in-his-apartment part. And the fact that Gabriel had looked nothing like this man. Frost bitten and frozen, sure, but now waterlogged. "Do you have an image of Gabriel's body?" he asked.

"Well," Feliciano giggled sheepishly, "they never actually found Gabriel's body."

"What?" Lovino demanded. "Then how can they pin the murder on this guy!"

"That's what's so interesting! Like you said, there was no news coverage—I looked! Nothing on the internet but his missing status and the social media page his family started. Even there it doesn't mention the case being closed! It seems as far as everyone is aware, this isn't over—but according to the police-!"

The police. Lovino moved his food from his lap and to the table so that he could better focus on the paperwork. "How—How did you even get access to all this?" He asked, disbelieving. Even closed there was no way Feliciano, as a commoner, would be able to secure such access!

"I told them that I was working with an online vigilantly group," he bragged, an innocent smile on his lips.

Lovino shot him a bemused glance. "You're telling me that you lied to them about being a  _fake cop_?" Feliciano grinned, honey eyes gleaming with pride. Lovino almost laughed. "Okay, how desperate was the receptionist?"

"Four cats— _at least_ —desperate," he admitted with a wink. "She seemed super impressed after I offered to take her out for coffee."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "She could get fired and all you're going to give her is  _coffee_?"

"Grandpa always taught me that sometimes its better to pray for forgiveness than ask for permission," he chirped.

 _If that wasn't contradicting_ , Lovino silently mused to himself, turning his attention back to the information at hand.

"So, why do you think that they didn't let the press in on this?" Lovino asked.

"Because it's a coverup."

"This isn't a fucking movie, Feli." Lovino drawled. "Don't go making such assumptions. There is still a missing body—if not  _kid_ —out there!"

"I know, I know," Feliciano said, "but these reports aren't going to find him. They're too perfect!"

"And how many police records are you comparing them to?" Lovino asked with a sigh. "You really can't just go—"

"Forty-seven."

"What?"

"I am comparing them to forty-seven other records."

This kid. This fucking kid. Lovino was probably sitting next to a serial killer. Encrypted messages, some-fucking-hidden-past with fucking police records—all under the guise of a bumbling fucking idiot? What the fuck?

What the fuck?

Lovino was  _not_  freaking out on the inside. That's why he could smile at his  _friend_ , and not think that it was the kid that probably had drugged his muffin—had he left Feliciano alone with his muffin? The coffee had tasted weird, maybe that was it?—no, he wasn't thinking anything along those lines because he was  _not_  freaking out on the inside.

"Lovino?" Feliciano asked, hesitant. "You okay?"

"What— _what_?"

"I asked you a question like four times now," he laughed, though there was something nervous behind it. "You're kinda creepy me out with that smile."

Yeah,  _he_  was the one creeping people out. Lovino shook his head. "I'm sorry, what did you ask?"

"I asked whether or not you think the police have something to do with it."

"You mean if someone on the case was involved with his disappearance?"

"Yeah!"

"I—I don't know," he admitted, exasperated. He couldn't know. The extent of his police knowledge came from Brookland Nine-Nine and NCIS. And he seriously doubted whether either of those were going to help his case.

Feliciano hummed a tight "Hmm," at him, turning back to the two images. He then pulled out Mathais's criminal records, because he was either  _really fucking good at flirting or had some dirt on that poor woman._

Lovino silently promised to never make enemies with this kid.  _Forty-fucking-seven!_

Feliciano seemed intent on reading over the records, silent for once as he did. Lovino, having already looked over his folder enough times to familiarize himself with the information, watched him out of the corner of his eye. Did "weird" even cover it? It was fun finding secret messages, but it looked like the kid had a secrete fucking life at this point. Why had he looked over so many police records? As far as he knew the kid's family was in the fucking art business. His grandfather was some famous painter, his mom a sculptor and his Dad a professor. How did any of that constitute  _this_?

"Feli," he found himself asking, unable to keep it to himself. "Why are you so fucking weird?"

Hmm, he should really consider joining a precinct. He'd be a great interrogator.

Feliciano seemed to flush in embarrassment. "What?" he asked with a giggle. He almost seemed hurt. No, guilt was  _not_  allowed in this; fuck.

"Well, aren't you saving up to go to college in LA for painting or something?" Lovino asked skeptically. "What's with all the—" the what?  _Being scary_? Lovino would sound like an idiot if he said that. Trailing off with a wave of his hand, he tried to find the right words. "With all the secretive-ness. The weird texts, the sudden backstory of being whatever-this-is? I just," he shook his head, "I just don't know."

Feliciano seemed happy at the explanation, brightening again. "Oh! You mean the police work?"

Lovino noted that the kid avoided the subject of secrete messages but accepted it for what it was. "Yeah."

"My dad had a friend when I was growing up, a detective. He would show me all his cases, new and old, and explain the process to me." He laughed, almost nostalgic as he stared at the image of the body. "I was sure that I would grow up to be a police officer like him—dressed up as one for Halloween three times as a kid!—but I decided to continue the family tradition instead." Something moved the kid to suddenly stand. "That's it!" he exclaimed.

Lovino recoiled, surprised. "Fuck—what?" Feliciano was tapping away on his phone, paying no attention to Lovino as he absently put together the folders and scooped them up into his arms, stepped around the couch, and made his way blindly towards the exit. "Where are you going?" he demanded, still holding a folder of his own.

Feliciano paused at the door, but not because Lovino had spoken. He was still too busy staring at his screen. He seemed stuck in a state of contentious triumph. The ping of his phone won the battle, and the kid blew up into a ball of joy. "Yes!" he cried.

" _What_?"

Feliciano shot him a grin. "I'm going to fax these over to my dad's friend!"

That  _totally_ answered more questions than it raised. "Wha—who faxes things anymore? Where are you going to get a fax machine? Do you even know how to  _use_  one?"

"Don't worry! The library has a fax machine."

Lovino shook his head in disbelief. "Feliciano, it is  _midnight_. The library isn't open!"

The kid had started at his phone again, smiling into it. "I know…a guy," he giggled.

" _Of_   _course, you do_." Because what regular person didn't have contacts to get into the library at midnight?

He giggled even more when his phone went off. "Wonderful! You waiting here or going?" He didn't seem to care, because in a moment his keys were out of the bowl and in his hands and the outside world was streaming in.

Lovino jumped up. Thoughts of ghost children and now dead-guy images were not something he had prepared himself to be alone with this morning. He quickly racked up that he was going because he still had one of Feliciano's folders. It could be important.

The library was a fifteen-minute drive from Feliciano's apartment. No one was on the roads this late, but the 'town' Feliciano lived in was spread-out, houses and churches (yes, morethanone) and small businesses crowding the area with large bits of land. It took them a bit longer, as Feliciano took a pitstop at a small shop. Lovino stared at the desolate windows.

"I don't think it's open." The wind was still steady. Lovino closed his window.

"Don't worry, he lives in." Feliciano dismissed. "Stay here."

Nonetheless, ten minutes later Feliciano was jogging back. He carried a small brown bag with him.

"What's that?" Lovino asked pointedly.

Feliciano sent him an innocent smile. "Don't worry about it."

The library used to be a Catholic church. It was made of brick and loomed over surrounding buildings. A grand stone stairway welcomed the two boys as Feliciano parked in the front, gathered his things, and motioned for them to get out.

"She should be here soon," he mumbled, pulling the keys from the ignition.

Lovino sighed to himself. How many poor old women would the kid manipulate in a day? Feliciano would sometimes reprimand the idea of his grandfather, saying that his grandfather was too much of a flirt, and Lovino couldn't place whether Feliciano was unaware or if the dead geezer had been  _worse_  than him.

It was as Lovino was shutting his door that he realized his mistake. Standing at the top of the stone mountain was a woman, yes, but not old. Lovino stared. Dark skin radiated under the scampering moonlight, clouds roaring with the winds, and a petit but full figure—a single hand on her hip, long hair separated by two braided pigtails billowing around her—stood expectantly. Lovino couldn't help but stare. She was gorgeous.

Feliciano stole away the distance and pressed a kiss to the side of her lips. "Michelle," Lovino caught this, but that was all that he caught, the rest of what Feliciano said kept private between the two of them. Whether on purpose or accident didn't matter.

Michelle, after what Lovino could only imagine to be some line, rolled her eyes. Lovino ascended the steps slowly, a pressing awkwardness slugging his motions. "If we were in Victorian England, I'm sure that one would have worked," she said, but the everlying flirtatious tone didn't waver.

Feliciano chuckled. "Worked?" he asked, aloof. He pressed the brown bag into one of her hands.

Confused, she peered into it. A sudden grin broke across her features. "You remembered!"

"How could I forget?" he asked, almost  _hurt_.

Her gaze was soft when she looked back at him.

Lovino broke the eye contact by clearing his throat. Cock-block, sure, but the wind was getting ridiculous and Lovino was ready to go home.

"Oh! Hi, sorry," a deep flush spread across Michelle's features, darkening her cheeks further. "The—The door's unlocked."

Lovino started towards said door, expecting Feliciano to be behind him, but the kid  _stayed_  behind. Lovino didn't wait for him (despite Feliciano being the only one that had to enter. Lovino was useless on this mission). Sighing he sat in the darkness for a long moment, close to the entrance as the coffee, with what he had seen in the last twenty-four hours, wasn't mixing well with looming corners and bookcases. There was so much empty space that the vast area, to Lovino, felt anything but empty.

Finally, Feliciano came in.

"Are you sure," he asked, opening the door with his back, still looking at Michelle, his tone serious.

"Positive," she said, short. Lovino wasn't sure what was happening. The look on Feliciano's face told him it wasn't all that great, though.

His smile was back in an instant. "Right," he laughed, "no reason hoping! Have bounds've luck, friend."

"Thank you again; for the chocolates. I'm glad I got to see you again."

Feliciano just nodded, letting the door close.

"What was that all about?" Lovino asked, claiming Feliciano's attention.

Feliciano just shook his head, his demeanor falling a bit once more. "Don't—"

"Worry about it. Yeah, whatever. Where the hell is this fucking prehistoric piece of shit?" Lovino was sure it was the coffee mixed with the visions and the shadows that caused his irritation. He just wanted to go home.

The two made their way across the lobby area, falling behind the main desk and to a block. Feliciano switched on a switch and the whole lobby erupted with light, accompanied by the whirring of the block. "Gotta wait for it to kickstart itself," Feliciano shared, shuffling his stack.

Lovino watched, almost fascinated, as the kid worked his magic and  _faxed_  something. He shared that the detective, retired, a Mr. Jones, was paranoid that someone would intercept an email. Giggling, "no matter what I send him he wants it faxed." He scrunched up his face, speaking deeper than usual. " _If it goes beyond personal life, Feli, then keep it personal_."

Lovino grunted his response, disinterested. Feliciano didn't seem to notice. Within ten minutes all files had been sent off and the pair were leaving.

"Aren't we going to lock up?" Lovino asked warily.

"Michelle said not to. She'll be back in a few."

"And you don't want to wait for her?"

Feliciano just laughed, bouncing down the steps and to his car. Lovino let it go.

* * *

They were back in Feliciano's apartment. The noodles had grown cold, stale, but Lovino felt too sick to even think of eating. Maybe coffee wasn't as miraculous as he had once believed. Feliciano set the files back onto the table and put his phone to his ear.

"Did you get them…yeah, yeah I have them right in front of me…none at all!..no, I'm sur—yeah, I know…okay, yeah," he flipped through the folders until he found what he was looking for, "I'm looking at it…okay, one second—Lovi, can you grab me a pen?"

"Uh, yeah, where are they?"

"Should be one in my room-dresser, probably," he said, focusing in on the paper and not Lovino.

Lovino made his way to the kid's bedroom. It was a lot cleaner than his, a basket instead of just a clothes pile, even. Lovino low-key resented the kid for being so put-together sometimes. Right now was one of those times. Mocking the kid under his breath, finding himself to be angrier than reasonable, he found a pen jar— _oh, so fancy_ —and plucked one out, examining it, willing it to be out of ink as he brought it to its owner.

"Of course I know that, Al!" Feliciano erupted. "You're not listening to what I'm saying!–Thanks, Lovi—this is serious!..yes… _yes_ …okay, okay, I understand. What was that number again?" He took to writing the number on his hand—hah, at least Lovino had scrap paper at his house—nodding into the phone, mouthing each number. "Alright, thank you…thank you…I will…okay…uh—yeah, one sec—Lovi, he wants to talk to you."

"Why?"

"A statement," Feliciano said, handing him the phone and walking back into his room. Lovino sighed, cradling the phone to his ear.

"Lovino speaking."

"Why the hell are you getting Feliciano involved with this?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "I'm not the one playing detective here."

The man grunted on the other end. "Alright, last time you saw the kid."

"I don't know, December sometime."

"What was he wearing?"

An orange hoodie flashed through Lovino's mind, but he bit that answer down. "I don't fucking remember."

"Watch your tone," the man snapped. "Last person you saw him with?"

"A group of kids outside our building."

"Is the address listed your building?"

"I don't know, what's listed…yeah, that's it."

"Any suspicious characters around the building at the time?"

"None that I know of."

There was a long pause. Lovino almost thought that he had hung up, but alas he was back. "Alright, give Feliciano the phone back."

"You're welcome," Lovino muttered, glaring into the phone, deaf to any response the detective could have given. Feliciano was scribbling away in a notebook, tapping his foot against his bed. "He wants you again."

"Thanks, Lovi!" Feliciano cooed, grabbing the phone. "Yeah, I got it down…don't worry— _yes Al_ —"

Lovino made his way back to the Livingroom, throwing himself onto the couch. He tried to ignore the gnarled feeling in his chest and stomach, the spinning, the feeling that he was going to puke. Next time Feliciano spends the night  _he_  sleeps on the floor.

After what felt like forever, but not long enough, Feliciano came out of his room, loudly proud. "Perfect! Al's on the case!"

"Great," Lovino drawled. He didn't care. Ghosts should really go to Feliciano from here-on-out.

"He agrees with me that the documents look suspicious. He's going to walk me through investigating your building tomorrow! Do you think Gabriel's parents will be home? What time do they usually leave—or, get back?"

"I don't fucking know, Feliciano. I don't keep tabs on them."

"That's alright. You'll come with me, right? Do you work tomorrow? I don't. Elli gave me two days off for once! If you do work do you mind if I stay at your place while your gone—just in case the Rodriguezes aren't back yet. And you said something about a group of kids? Al wants to know if we can talk to them. Well, if I can—and you if you want to come—do you think that would be weird? Oh, and I have to make photocopies of these before I return them. Al says that if they are fake they'll probably change the files if they figure out that I have them—oh, I almost forgot! I have a date in the morning. What time is it?"

It was too early and Feliciano was too talkative. Anything beyond that was irrelevant to Lovino who was actively trying not to throw up.

"If I go to sleep now I'm sure not to wake up in time. You want some coffee, Lovi?"

A long pause. "No."

"I'll just make enough for one, then." And he was off. And it was quiet. "Do you want anything to eat, Lovino? We can turn on something to watch, too. You know, if you ever bring your laptop we could hook it up and watch something other than CDs. My TV has an HDMI chord, turns out. I was looking over it the—uh the other day, I think, when I was dusting. But do you want to watch something now." And the quiet was gone.

Lovino sat up. He should go home. "I think I'm—" his whole body lurched.

"You don't look too—do you need a bowl! Don't puke. Lovino!" Just like that Feliciano came forward, tearing him from the couch and steering him towards the restroom. Lovino hurled.

Feliciano quickly wet a rag and handed it to him. Lovino groaned, slumping back and pressing it to his eyes. He really needed some sleep, but the acid that now rested in his chest would no doubt prevent it. Feliciano dug through his cabinets.

"Uh, Tylenol or tums, they're the only medicine I have," he admitted clumsily.

Four fruit tablets and a mouthful of Listerine later, Lovino was back on the couch. Feliciano insisted that he could spend the night and that he would cover Lovino's shift.

"No, it's fine," Lovino grumbled. "I just need some sleep."

"Alright! I'll go get you a blanket!" Lovino growled, the boy's tone too bright, too loud, but Feliciano was ignorant to it as, returning with a blanket—to which Lovino used as a pillow—he continued talking. "There's a bowl on the table if you need to puke again and can't make it to the bathroom. Please try not to puke into the carpet. If you need anything just ask, alright? Are you feeling any better?"

A long pause. "No."

"Oh, okay. Well, just relax. I—I should turn off the light." The words drifted into a mutter as the warm orange glow was replaced with darkness. Lovino dug his face into the corner of the arm rest and cushion, finding here the coolest place. Lovino registered at some point that Feliciano had started talking again but ignored it. A blue glow fell over him, followed by muffled tones that indicated Feliciano had turned on the television. Lovino didn't care; it was almost comforting.

* * *

Lovino woke up alone. Feliciano must have still been out on his date. He felt better, albeit a bit hungry, and picked himself up to leave. Checking his phone he found a single text.

_8:45_

**If I'm not back I'll meet you at your place later. Text me if you need me to cover your shift. I scrambled some eggs. Feel free to them.**

Lovino scrubbed his hand down his face. Feliciano was going to get bugs. Lovino, before leaving, packed up the eggs in an old cottage cheese container and stuck them in the fridge and rinsing out the pan. He would pick something up on the way home.

Just as Feliciano had promised, he showed up at Lovino's place, notepad and pencil poised for action. He smiled widely, excited questions on his tongue.

Lovino felt better, but there was something off about Feliciano.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" he asked.

"Maybe like," he paused, bobbing his head, "five hours? But don't worry about it. I'll go to bed early tonight!"

Lovino was having a hard time letting this one go. He didn't know why. "Alright. Where do we start?"

Feliciano erupted with ideas.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Let me apologize for all the things here and now:_

_Sorry you guys for the quality of this fic. I'm trying to play the_ Get-70K-Words-Out-In-Less-Than-A-Month _game for two different stories, which, with the rest of my schedule, means that I probably have 14-19 hours a week to write unless I literally don't sleep. The last update was performed at 3 a.m., as I'm sure anyone who got through it could tell. I have zero seconds to edit-meaning run-on sentences, broken metaphors, elementary mistakes, tones being, just, all over the place—and I know that its bad. Trust me,_ I know _. One day I might come back to edit, but I'm pretending that these are my final few weeks writing fanfiction ever just-in-case._

_Sorry for slow responses. There have been multiple times now where my inbox is full of different messages that I read but didn't get a response for a handful of hours or days. Even now that's the case. It's not because I don't love communicating with you guys—shit, as-of-right-now this is my social life aside from photography and coworkers—it's just that sometimes I burn-out when it comes to talking to people. It's a pattern that I've learned to accept. Talk to all-the-people-ever for a month, not want to talk to anyone-but-my-dog for however-long-the-spell-lasts. I'm sure some of you guys understand, but to the ones that don't I'm sorry and I promise I still love you bunches._

_Sorry for the all-over-the-place update schedule. This one speaks for itself._


	5. Cinq

"Listen you little brat," Lovino snapped. The sun was blistering above them, and the two kids standing before them smelt strongly of sunscreen. The boy he was trying to talk to scowled at him, crossing tanned arms over a bare chest. "We're trying to figure out what happened to your fucking brat-friend. So, if you could stop being such a—"

"Lovino," Feliciano tried, placing a hand on his arm. "Calm down."

The boy quirked an eyebrow. "The good-cop-bad-cop routine ain't gon' work. 'Specially seeing that you ain't cops."

Lovino wished he had a fake badge. He had half a mind to ask Feliciano if he still had one from when he was a kid but was too caught up in the moment and heat to consider that plan properly. "Aren't you just a fucking hoot-and-a-half?" Lovino yelled. "All I'm asking for is some information!"

"And how do we know that you're not the murderer?" the boy asked. A girl next to him giggled, shoving her shoulder into his.

"Oh shush, Peter, they're obviously not murderers."

"And how do you know?"

"Look at them. They're too pathetic to be murderers."

Feliciano smiled at her. "Thank you."

"Too pathetic!" Lovino screamed. "You think that I'm too pathetic to be a murderer? Well, let me tell you something—not that you'll understand, what are you,  _two_?—I would be the best fucking murderer in the fucking—"

"Lovino!" Feliciano snapped, his gentle hand became a sharp punch, " _shut up_!"

Lovino glowered at him. This had been Feliciano's plan—Lovino had told him that it was no use. They were a lot of selfish brats. Even if they had information—which Lovino seriously doubted—they wouldn't cough it up!

"Eight," the boy, Peter shared matter-of-factly.

" _What_?" Lovino demanded.

" _I'm eight_. Though I can see where you would mistake me for two. Projection and all."

Lovino hated kids, he hated the internet that took them away from killing each other with stones (though he had grown up with the internet, too), and he wished more of them had been aborted. Was late-term abortion a thing yet? Could you late-term abort someone else's kid?

Fuck, that was murder, wasn't it?

"I just want to know the last time you saw him," Feliciano tried, dropping to one knee with a small smile. "You're smart, you know how unlikely him being alive still it. But there is still a chance. Don't you want to help get him back?"

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, he was kind of a douche bag."

The little girl shook her head. "I think he was rather cute. A bit shy, though."

"Were there any adults that were around him a lot?" Feliciano asked her directly.

"Uhm, not that I know of. He stuck with the group or inside. Oh! Peter, you were in his class, weren't you?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah."

"Were there any teachers that talked to him a lot?"

Peter scruffed up his nose. "Now you're suspecting our teachers?"

"We have to just cover all ground."

"Then start with your friend there. He was always yelling at him."

"For hitting my car with a ball!"

Peter rolled his eyes. Lovino would have punched him if Feliciano hadn't shot him such a powerful glare over his shoulder. "Whatever."

"Did any cops talk to you guys?" The two of them shook their heads. Felicaino hummed and jotted that in his book. "Well, I'm sure you'd like to join your friends—"

"Ain't you gon' ask about his folks?" Peter demanded.

"What do you mean," Feliciano asked kindly.

"I mean, you think he could be murdered, right. Well, I seen on the news these parents that hung they kid in their basement and tried to hide the body in a dumpster."

Lovino clicked his tongue. That was specific. What was the world coming to?

"Did you know anything about his parents?"

"No," Peter admitted. Lovino sighed. "But I do know that he didn't like 'em. We all just assumed he had run off."

Feliciano nodded, taking more notes.

"Were they beating him or something," Lovino groaned. No kid liked their parents. Hell, Lovino was twenty-five and moved out of the house and  _he_  still didn't like his.

"Lovino!" Feliciano hissed.

" _What_? He's  _eight_. I'm sure he's old enough to know what domestic abuse is." Lovino was falling under the suspicion that Feliciano didn't want him there, but he didn't care. He had been dragged out of his apartment to do this, so he was going to participate. Feliciano could go twiddle around in a bit when Lovino went to work. Speaking of, what time was it?

"He got called into the office once because he had a big bruise on his cheek," Peter shared with a shrug. "Dunno what it came out to, but my mom says to stay away from them. "

Feliciano, writing down the new information. "Do you have anything else you want us to ask about?" he asked.

Peter shook his head. "No. Why do you care?"

"About Gabriel?"

"Yeah, you don't live here. And I doubt he's worried."

Feliciano stood, shutting his notepad with a sigh of his own. "We care because we can. If we can care, we can help, right?"

"Sounds cheesy to me," Lovino muttered under his breath, pulling out his phone to check the time. Fuck, it looked like he had to leave. Like, ten minutes ago. Between Feliciano's babbling about the plan, and wrangling a couple of kids long enough to talk to them, the forty-some minutes Lovino had set aside for this had dissipated.

"Yeah, I guess so." Peter said.

The little girl offered Feliciano a shy smile. "Think he's still alive?"

"I can't be certain, but the more you guys help the closer we'll come to finding out."

"Great," Lovino said with a clap. "Got what you need, Feli? Because I gotta go." Feliciano rolled his eyes with a deep sigh. Lovino realized that he was irritated. That made Lovino irritated. "What?" he demanded.

"Nothing. Have a good day." Feliciano sighed, passing him and heading toward the stairs.

 _Have a good day_? What the fuck did that mean? Lovino growled, making sure his keys were in his pocket and stomping to his car. He watched Feliciano disappear into  _his_  apartment before slamming the door of his car. "What a little fucking bitch," Lovino said to himself, pulling out and setting his course.

* * *

When he got home, Feliciano was nowhere to be found. He checked his phone but there was no message. Silence from the kid's end.

Lovino almost grinned. He could get used to this.

Sure his patio door was closed, Lovino threw himself on his bed. Staring at the ceiling, he basked in the silence. The past few days' wind was dead and still, so 'silence' was practically just that. He could hear a few bangs and shuffles from his surrounding neighbors, but it was a still night.

Then why couldn't he sleep?

He had been sure not to drink too much coffee today. He still had a job, there was no ghost child attempting to murder him, and his stress level was no more than usual. If anything, compared to the last few days, he should be taking this moment to relax. To sleep. But, alas, he stared through shallow darkness at his ceiling.

His mind circled back to the application that Elizaveta had given him. The pay hadn't been listed, but from what he knew, based on the truck drivers passing through his work, it was a whole lot more than minimum. His lease for his apartment would be a bitch to get out of, though. He had signed for two years—five months ago. Could he take a year and a half more here?

Lovino had never been good at considering his future when he did things. It's why he decided to work instead of go to college; it's why he was stuck at a dead-end job in Kansas. Sure, he grew up in Kansas, two hours away from where he was now, but he had never wanted that. Never planned for anything different. So, here he was.

Maybe a change of pace would be nice. He could travel across America—maybe even dip into Mexico or Canada here and again—get paid to sit on his ass ten hours a day. Be  _forced_  to park and take an eight hour break every day.

There didn't seem to be a single con in the deal. Hell, he could even keep the apartment. Truckers had home-bases.

Still, something nipped at his conscious; something made him feel guilty. Turning over and shoving his face into his pillow he grumbled a string of curses even he couldn't understand.

He just needed to get some sleep.

* * *

He expected to wake up to his phone. Rubbing his eye, he realized he hadn't put it on the charger. Plugging it in, he quickly switched it on.

He almost felt there was some problem with his service when he saw Feliciano hadn't tried to contact him. No call, no text, no nothing. Leaving his phone to charge Lovino pulled himself out of bed.

Part of him was hungry, the rest of him was poor. What day was it? He poked at his calendar; Friday was payday, Monday rent was due. He sighed, deciding silently to pick up some chips and frozen food on his way home from work. For now, though, he would have to live with the instant noodles in his cupboard. He did find a pack of pink salmon tucked away, and just as he was deciding that he could splurge a little today a knock rapped upon his door.

He paused. Who was at his door? Feliciano was inconsiderate, sure, but he always gave  _some_ warning before coming over. He wasn't behind on payments.

Another sharp knock.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he muttered, leaving a half-opened package of fish on the counter. "What is it?" he demanded of the stranger outside his door. It was a man, and he looked angry.

"Did you leave this under my door?" he demanded, waving a sheet of paper in Lovino's face.

Lovino took it. A quick skim caused his stomach to churn. Fucking Feliciano.

"I—" Lovino started, trying to find words to explain this. A whole fucking essay practically accusing this man of murdering his step son. Well, at least it blamed the wife, too. "Yeah, I did." Lovino finally decided. He wasn't going to have Feliciano go against this man. He was short, looking of a Mexican descent, but something in Lovino's gut gave warning.

"You don't think," he screamed, shoving a stout finger into Lovino's chest, "that my son's disappearance is enough?"

Lovino wanted to punch him. "I don't know," he mused, "doesn't sound like you were too keen with him." He was speaking out his ass, the deepset shiver waterfalling down his chest and shoulders confirmed it, but Lovino learned a long time ago to stick to whatever act you start with—and, in his case, that 'act' was usually speaking out the ass. "Sending him to school with bruises? And then disappearing all the time after he goes missing? Sounds like—"

He didn't get to finish his thought before a shaking fist caught him in the jaw. Lovino dropped against the doorframe, crying out in surprise. Another punch came and, well, Lovino was  _really_ good at talking-the-talk. The walk? Against an angry Mexican father? Not so much.

"Don't come near my family!" the man bellowed. Lovino agreed with a stiff nod, star-white pain spreading across the bridge of his nose and eyes. When the door was slammed, leaving him on the ground in pain, Lovino just shook his head with a long, manly groan.

"Next time I see Feliciano," he told his ceiling, "I'm going to kill him."

He texted Feliciano, telling him he was coming over, and set off on his mission. He wondered, bitterly amused, whether he should buy a shovel on the way. He decided against it when he remembered rent was coming up.

Slamming his fist against the kid's door he shouted, "Feliciano, open the fucking door!"

There was a small amount of shuffling. Lovino readied himself. He would start by kicking him, proceed to punch him, and finish it off by delicately strangling the life out of him. Yes, that sounded like a much better plan than accusing someone of murder through a NOTE SLIPPED UNDER THE DOOR. This wasn't a middle-school crush, damn it!

The door opened and Lovino threw his fist. Only, it was his left fist, and he purposefully hit the wall instead of the kid. He really liked the idea of killing the kid, really did, but scaring him would be enough for today. Feliciano recoiled, holding onto the knob of his apartment for dear life.

"Lovi—Lovino!" he cried.

Lovino leaned in, inches away from the other with a deep scowl set across his puffy features. "Tell me," he said, "why you thought sliding a note under the Rodriguez's door was a good idea?"

"I—I—" Feliciano stammered, wide eyes. "I—I just thought-"

"No, that's the problem! You didn't think, Feliciano! What could fucking possess you to—accusing them of murder with a note? What would have happened if they had taken it to the police and you and your little retired detective were wrong? Then what? How much trouble would you be in for having those records in your possession? Fuck, they could have made a photocopy for all I know!"

Throughout Lovino's yelling, Feliciano's eyes had started watering, and now, screaming the last words in his face, Lovino watched the tears rim and fall. The boy was shaking. Had he really scared him that bad?

Lovino registered the dark circle's settling beneath the kid's eyes. His chin quivered just as much as his shoulders, and the tears continued to streak down his face.

Fuck.

Lovino stood up, running a cautious hand through his hair. "Stop crying. I—I told them I did it. You're not in trouble. Just don't…go doing that…" he trailed off as Feliciano wiped at his eyes, his cries deepening despite Lovino telling him it was alright. "When's the last time you slept?" he demanded. All the lights were on inside the house, warm and orange as always, but also not needed as the sun was already up.

"I—I don't know," Feliciano laughed, despite still actively crying. "Zoey got busted last Friday so l unpacked her van."

Lovino clicked his tongue. "I don't fucking speak in codes, Feliciano. Just say it out!" He must have been tired, Lovino had never seen him so desperate, so whatever this was.

Feliciano just shook his head, falling into Lovino's chest and balling his eyes out. Lovino stiffened, the contact awkward and his shirt was getting wet not and he didn't know what to say. Recollecting his composure, Lovino grabbed him by the shoulders and led him inside the apartment.

He noted how dastardly clean everything was as he led Feliciano to his room. When Lovino stayed up for long periods of time everything became chaotic and messy. Then again, he had never lifted a duster in his life. He did gently beat his bookshelf (when he lived with his parents and had the luxury of such-a-thing) with a rag once or twice, though, so he knew the general rules of the game.

Feliciano shook his head when Lovino insisted that he go to bed. "I—I have work today. I—I'm just—stressed is all. With Gabriel and all." Another shake of the head. "Crying relieves stress, you know?" he laughed.

"I also know that sleep deprivation  _causes_  stress, Feliciano." Lovino sighed. Why was Felicaino refusing to sleep?

Had he seen a ghost to?

Lovino mulled the thought through his head. The image of the kid still shook him to the core, but with every passing second it felt more and more like a dream to him. If Feliciano had seen him, too—and, well if he took it differently, was dealing with it like—

"I can't stop thinking about Grandpa," Feliciano said, cutting through Lovino's train of thought.

Lovino swallowed the disappointment of not having someone else see the ghost with (not that he would wish it upon anyone, just that it would be nice to be crazy  _with_  someone), covering it with a small toss of his weight. Great, death, a topic he had nothing good to say about. "He's gone, Feli, get over it," was the first thing that came to his mind, but he quickly bit his tongue and refused to let the words past his lips.

"I—" he tried, serious, euphoric when Feliciano continued talking.

"He's  _dead_ , Lovino. He's not in the—he's not just in Colorado anymore. He's not just a few hours away. He's dead, and I don't know what that means. If there's a god like he always told me then I shouldn't be sad, but I am. Why would I be so sad if he's okay and with God? But—But what if there's not? It makes no sense! You always say so. There's—seven days?" he laughed. "He's either happy or gone, and not knowing is driving me—me insane! And I can't do anything about it but think! But—But the more—But the more I think the less I understand because all I know is stupid art and I want to know more but I can't until I die!"

Feliciano sat on the bed, running his fingers through his hair and looking up at Lovino, pleading with him, it seemed, but Lovino didn't know why. Lovino didn't know anything. He was an ass-talker, Feliciano knew that! He was agnostic because he wasn't confident enough to be an atheist, he didn't know!

"I—" he breathed, "then I guess you have to stop thinking about it." Lovino hated himself; still, because he was the biggest idiot in the room, he continued. "You're right, he's dead. You can't change that, and you can't focus on it, either, because, no matter what, one day  _you're going to be dead too_. I guess—live while you can," he shrugged, "because dying is the only thing you can count on. No going back in time."

He groaned, staring at the floor and cringing inwardly, but when he caught Feliciano's expression—well, he didn't know what to think or feel. Feliciano was nodding, openly balling his eyes out with the saddest smile on his face, sucking in through his nose and giggling with each breath. He kept his hands in his lap, sitting criss-cross and nodding. Just, nodding. "You're right," he cried. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Lovino groaned.

Feliciano laughed fully at his, scraping his cheek across his shoulder. "Sorry!"

Lovino would have smiled if the sight didn't make him feel bad. He wasn't sure what level of bad it was, but he knew that it was definitely on the not-good spectrum. "Lay down and go to sleep," Lovino sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"I can't, I—"

"Already on it." Lovino stuck the phone to his ear and pointed at the kid. "Sleep. Now."

Elizaveta was picked up the phone just as Lovino was turning out the light.

"Are you calling to put in your two weeks?" she asked.

Lovino paused. Two birds, one stone? Still, something gnarled in his chest. A fear of change perhaps. "No, I'm not," he snapped back, though he felt empty, not angry. "I'm calling to let you know Feliciano is sick and is going to need someone to cover his shift."

"Why doesn't he call?"

Lovino knew she couldn't see his sarcastic smile, but he tightened his lips into one anyway. "Because he's  _sick_."

She drew out a long sigh. Lovino could hear the shuffling of her walking around, the sharp click of a mouse, another long sigh. "Then I guess you're working with me tonight," she grumbled. "I'll see you at three."

Great. Hanging up the phone, Lovino tended to his puffy eye, opening Feliciano's freezer in hopes of an icepack or frozen peas. Here, alone and staring into a freezer full of frozen treats, not a vegetable or meat to be found, he allowed himself a smile. "He is either secretly a super hero or is on track to become fucking obese." Lovino laughed to himself, opting out for a cold rag to press against his face. He knew Elizaveta would give him shit for it and began daydreaming his way through bitten responses he could throw back at her.

The swelling of his eye went down  _enough_  about ten minutes later, and Lovino began leaving. He had enough time to do some shopping before work, now, and his stomach urged him to get to it. As he made his way to his car, to the store, through the isles of the Dollar General, Lovino couldn't shake Elizaveta's words. Her suggestion.

_Are you calling to put in your two weeks?_

What was stopping him? It wasn't the pay, that was for sure.

Sticking a fifth loaf of frozen garlic bread into his cart (five for five and also his guilty pleasure) and looked over his selection and decided it would get him through long enough to make sure he had enough for his bills. He caught the sign on the register,  _Help Wanted_ , and quietly wondered if he could just get a new job. It would be a lot less demanding here, or anywhere, really, and it was a franchise, not some privately-owned freak show, so there was probably  _some_ room for growth.

"Fifty-fifty," the teenager at the register said. Lovino nodded, plugging his card into the pinpad with a silent sigh.

No, he wasn't going to just change jobs willy-nilly. He needed to think seriously about what he was going to do. He was going to be retirement-age any day now, and he still didn't even know how a 401K worked. Just that he didn't have room to take ten percent out of his check every two weeks.

"Thank you," he muttered, grabbing his bag and making his way back to the car. Glistening red under the overcast that briefly hid the sun. Could he take this site another day? The laundry mat across-the-way that mocked him for not coming more often, the high calorie foods that put weight on his figure despite him never feeling full?

What was keeping him back?

His phone pinged as he was shoving his keys into the ignition. He didn't have to look to know who it was from.

_12:01_

**I can't sleep. Do you want to go get ice-cream?**

Lovino shook his head, rolling his eyes, not feeling irritated—but not feeling empty, either. Maybe he could go back to school for literature and figure out how to decipher emotions. That was all liberal art degrees were good for, anyway, right?

Tittering at his own joke, Lovino typed back a quick message, telling him to try again because he was shopping and had to go put his shit away before it melted. Feliciano was quick to offer up his own freezer, and Lovino didn't find himself refusing. His stomach refused, looking forward to the pringles and beef jerky an arms-length away, but Lovino ignored it, knowing that once he opened a can or a bag he wouldn't stop eating until they were gone.

Feliciano was ready, showered and dressed, and talked cheerily as Lovino attempted to find a way to fit the frozen meatballs aside the treats and bread and hot pockets. "You need a bigger freezer," Lovino groaned.

"I've never had a problem with it!"

Feliciano blast the AC to full, saying that he was burning up. Lovino told him that he was probably sick, but he shrugged it off with a laugh, claiming that he'd get a peanut-butter shake since it was healthier.

"You're an idiot," Lovino groaned.

"Am not!" Feliciano laughed. Lovino noticed that his bangs were getting long, hanging in front of his eyes. Lovino could only imagine what his hair looked like. When was the last time he had gotten it cut? "Anyway, I owe you?"

Lovino snorted. "Yeah, you do, but for what this time?"

"Your face is either because that kid cornered you or because an angry parent is the one that told you about the note. This is my apology."

"Great deductive reasoning," Lovino drew, "if you weren't so wrong. You see, I actually ran into a door."

"Uh-huh?" Feliciano asked, feigned worry on his features. "Is that so! Well I hope you gave that door a stern talking-to. I would hate for it to happen to someone else."

"So stern, so stern," Lovino agreed sarcastically. "I didn't hinge him to be so disrespectful." Feliciano giggled, and Lovino was even less empty than before. He liked this feeling. "If this is an apology, can we get lunch instead? I'm starving."

As Felicaino cooed about some menu item at a nearby diner, Lovino watch a truck pass. It's driver wore a ball cap, slinging one arm beside him to grab a coffee, never taking his eyes off the road as he took a swig. Lovino watched until he was gone. For the first time, something yearning sat in his chest. He wanted that. He wanted to work like that, ball caps and coffee and alone.

But what was holding him back?

"What do you think, Lovino?"

Maybe he didn't want to be alone.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_I swear, when I set-out to write this it was supposed to be cute, but now I have a dead kid, midlife-crisis'd main character, grieving love interest, and a side narrative about domestic abuse. This is why I can't have nice things._

_Okay, so it's looking like Luddy and Gilbert will be showing up in chapter seven or eight, now. Also, I was going to make this a straight 70K, but it is growing into a potential 100K story. I'll try to keep it short, but, I mean, look at_ Supernatural _the TV show. We know how far these adventure things can go (am I the only who only made it to, like, season eight?)_

_To anyone thinking: wow, he speaks the code now? Hahahaha, he's been doing it this whole fic. I wonder if anyone has caught it, yet. Imagine it like some play station achievement; gather all the secret messages!_

_Go check out LillyofFire, you guys. She's writing a paranormal fic with Norway, Denmark, and all those fools called_ Spell of the Axe _. My favorite story by her is_ End of Innocence _, but I guess while I wait for her to channel her brilliance for that one I will digress with something else_

_ALSO: two updates in one day because I don't do schedules. Sorriee_


	6. Six

He was still staring, looking at Lovino but Lovino doubted that the kid actually saw anything. He almost even looked like he was watching the wall behind Lovino. Lovino didn't want to be rude. So, he did what he could, pursing his lips and giving the boy the best "why the fuck are you staring at me"  _nice_  smile. He had been staring since the waitress left, and Lovino was sure the food was walking out of swinging doors right that instant. The boy looked better than he had, but Lovino knew he wasn't. Dark bags still lay beneath unfocused eyes.

Looking up, Lovino watched the waitress walk to another table. It hadn't been their food. He sighed. "I'm going to go to the bathroom," he groaned, uncomfortable being stared at, anxious waiting, low-key needing to pee. Just as he started sliding out of the booth, Feliciano started.

"Lovino?" he asked. Lovino hummed back a response, not letting his goal be disturbed. "Do you think you'd survive getting shot?"

How to respond?

He continued, not stopping, pursing his lips a bit tighter.

"Lovino?" Feliciano asked again.

Just keep walking.

"Lovino, I really hope you're confident that you'd survive, because there's a man watching us from the other end of the diner and he has a gun."

Lovino stopped, dead in his tracks. He turned, shooting Feliciano a dirty look. "I know you're—"

Feliciano's expression was nothing like his voice; not for a second, anyway. For one moment, as if private, something for only Lovino to see, it was stern, serious, dead-set and focused. Then, as if it was nothing but a phantom cast by the lighting, it was gone and Feliciano's smile was warm and kind and welcoming. "I noticed him tailing us a while ago. Please sit back down." He said, so sickingly sweet, so innocent.

Lovino nodded, scooting back in the booth. His mind fired a mile-a-minute, confused, disbelieving, doing everything in his power to convince his better senses not to look around the diner. Feliciano was pulling a fast one on him. Dreaming up conflict to keep himself awake—like someone who had been reading horror stories right before bed. Right? That was the only explanation. There was no way someone with a gun had been tailing  _them_. None at all.

N-O-N-E.

Feliciano started talking at him, almost bubbly, but his words made no sense. Lovino shook his head, trying to focus, but he couldn't. Everything the kid said was ludicrous!

"—great! Should Venice yield, zip, exile, prosecute, locate, memorize? No? But, no zombish realtor parking." He giggled, putting his hand up to his mouth. Lovino smiled at him, his eyes wide, nodding with bared teeth. Feliciano tapped his nose, grinning like an idiot.

That's when it happened. That's when something happened. That's when Lovino was left feeling that something had happened but not exactly sure how, what, why, when, or some other noun or verb that would compensate him for the sudden eruption of fear and confusion and desperation that shot through him. He wasn't good with emotions, but he knew these ones. He knew these ones because when the waitress came to their table, when Felicaino threw his hand up, dumping food everywhere, when there was a sudden commotion just behind him, when he felt someone grab at his hair, when Feliciano did  _something_  and suddenly the pressure at the back of his head disappeared, when Feliciano grabbed his arm screaming something about moving, well, in the midst of all that, one knows what the stopping of their heart, breath, and thought process means. It's human nature, really.

Feliciano forced Lovino forward, turning around and jabbing his elbow into a stranger's neck. The man gurgled something horrible, wrapping his arms around the small brunette as if to hug him, but Feliciano stomped his foot into the floor, into the man's foot, and pushed him away.

Lovino caught a whisper of movement from across the diner. Breaking the spell Feliciano had set on him, Lovino finally allowed himself to stare across the floor.

A man he didn't know, but somewhere, in the depths of his memory recalled, sat still in a booth, his hands laced beneath his chin as he stared forward. Lovino didn't have time to—well, to anything; one second he was catching the glimpse of this man the next Feliciano was grabbing his wrist and pulling him along.

Feliciano was stronger than he had imagined. Faster, too. Before he knew it they were running through those swinging doors into a hot kitchen.

"Where's your exit?" Feliciano demanded.

What Lovino deemed as the head chef looked like he was about to yell at them, but another character quickly pointed. Feliciano yelled a quick "thanks", never slowing down. They burst out the door, lit by a green  _Exit_  sign, and fell into a shallow ally-way. Feliciano snapped his head both ways, letting off something of a quiet curse, but Lovino was sure he had never heard the expression before.

"What's happening?" Lovino choked out.

"I don't know!" Feliciano yelled, deciding his path and flying down the gravel. Lovino sprinted after him, continuously looking behind himself.

"Who were they!"

"I don't know!"

"Where are we going!"

"I don't know!"

"Your car—"

"Lovino, shut up!" Feliciano begged, turning the first corner they came across. It led into the main street, so he immediately stopped and turned to go down the other direction, but it was already too late. A black car skidded to a stop. Dust clouds caught the sun's rays, blinding Lovino.

"Go go go!" Feliciano screamed, pushing Lovino towards the main road. Just as they turned the corner, sheltered by some shop Lovino had never bothered with, a loud crack, followed by another string of dust, broke out.

They were open on the main street. Lovino was painfully aware of all movement around himself, holding his breath as he ran as if the stars pricking his vision were helpful. Feliciano stopped, looked across the main street, and bolted. Lovino followed despite the fact he knew they couldn't make it without getting hit by oncoming traffic.

He didn't look when the screeching of tires hollered at him, the long blow of an irritated horn.

Feliciano ducked into another ally. Lovino, falling behind, lightheaded and growing faint in the heat, followed his direction, but as he turned he became lost. The kid was nowhere to be seen.

A list of horns and tires had followed them. Lovino spun in a hurried circle. This was it. He was going to die. Be killed by a list of crazy people with cars and guns and guns and  _guns_.

He squeaked when a hand grabbed him from behind. Lovino turned, throwing his fist, letting off a howl of desperation.

Feliciano cried out, falling away and cupping his cheek.

Oh fuck. "I'm sor—"

Feliciano just shook his head, his face twisted with pain as he motioned towards an open dumpster.

Lovino clambered in after Feliciano. Just as they were closing the lid Lovino caught the eerily-close dragging of tires.

They sat, listening. The smell and heat combined, taking Lovino's head and spinning it a million revolutions per second. With his eyes glued to the lid, hands groping around the bags beneath him for anything he could use as a weapon, he listened. Feliciano's breath was labored beside him.

It was years before either of them moved.

Feliciano pulled out his phone, the bright blue light blinding in their dark cavern. He hurriedly scrolled, jabbed, anxiously playing with the back of his case. His fingers fell into hurried succession, typing out a message before he turned off his phone.

"What's happening?" Lovino asked again, his voice a hushed whisper.

Feliciano swallowed. "I—" he tried quietly. "Well, the Rodriguezes didn't kill Gabriel."

"How do you—"

"If they had then it wouldn't be the police trying to kill us right now," his chuckle was dark.

Lovino just stared.

* * *

Whispered conversations with perturbed managers were hard enough, but when you included a sucky signal, an annoy hiss, an impossible hunger, and the smell of literal trash it became a lot harder.

"Just find someone else to do it!"

Feliciano hushed him again, still holding the lid of the dumpster up just-enough to peer out of it awkwardly.

"You can't call in sick ten minutes after your shift starts!" Elizaveta yelled into the phone.

"Well, I'm not calling in  _sick_ ," Lovino growled.

"Then—"

"It doesn't matter! Just find someone else to come in or close the snack bar, I'm a bit tied up right now and won't be able to come in!" He promptly hung up the phone, uninterested in her response. Feliciano slowly closed the lid and slumped down beside him. "Do you think it's safe to leave?" Lovino practically begged.

Feliciano shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," he admitted. "They're the police, Lovi, I'm not sure it will ever be safe to leave."

"Yeah, but how do you  _know_  it's the police?" Lovino drawled. "They weren't wearing uniforms."

"I know, but the man that grabbed you was someone I saw when I went to get the records on Gabriel. He was in uniform then, there's no mistaking it."

"And the man with the gun? Did you see him too?" Feliciano shook his head. Lovino groaned, scrubbing his face violently. "I'm going to be sick if we stay in here any longer!"

"I know, me too. Let's just wait a few more minutes. Can you call an Uber? Put my address in."

Lovino was about to ask why, but then it hit him. "Fuck, Feliciano if you're right they know where we live!"

"I know," Feliciano said quietly, "but we really need to get back to my apartment."

"Why?"

"Well, Al suspected that it could be someone on the force, so I did a little digging and, well, I think I may have found something. It's at the apartment though. I'll be really quick!"

"No!" Lovino refused. "I am not risking my life—and you are not risking  _yours_ —to maybe-have-something on a corrupt cop!"

Feliciano hissed, putting a finger to his lips. "Be quiet!"

Lovino lowered the volume, increasing the anger. "Leave this fucking case alone. I am not looking to die for some random fucking kid."

"How could you say that?" Feliciano demanded.

"How can I say what? That my life is more precious to me than some idea of justice for a lost cause?" Lovino bit.

Feliciano looked like he was going to burst into angry tears. "Don't you have any sympathy?"

"No! I don't! I'm not looking to die!"

"And neither was he, Lovino! How can you be so dense?"

"I dunno," he growled, scrunching up his nose at the kid meanly, "it's a fucking skill, I guess." Feliciano swiped at his eyes. "Don't go fucking crying. We're going to get out of this; but you're going to have to drop your fucking obsession. You didn't even  _know_  him!"

"That doesn't mean—"

"Yeah, it does."

Feliciano checked his phone, but it didn't seem his knight-in-blue-armor had answered him.

* * *

"What's the largest chicken nugget you have?" Lovino demanded of the kid behind the counter.

"20-piece, sir."

"I'll have four of those and a large drink," Lovino decided. "With ranch. Just, all of it." The kid nodded, punching in the order with what Lovino would have deemed judgmental if he wasn't so hungry he felt he was about to die. "Feliciano, what do you want."

The boy hadn't stopped refreshing his phone since they had gotten into a fight, and right now was no different. "Coffee and a small fry," he muttered, refusing to look up.

"What size coffee?" the boy asked.

"Large, please."

Lovino quickly paid, ears deaf to the price as he handed over his card and grabbed his cup.

The two sat down at a table made for two. It was nice to be somewhere with air conditioning and that didn't smell like shit, Lovino decided, laying his head down on the table and screwing his eyes shut. He was mentally and physically drained. His stomach growled loudly, the enticing smells of fast food encouraging his impulses to start yelling like a pissed-off soccer mom. He was too tired to act on it, though.

A sharp ding resonated a few minutes later. "Order 251!" the boy from the counter called. Lovino was so hungry, but also so comfortable.

"Will you go get that?" he grumbled at Feliciano, not lifting his head from the table.

The sound of movement; "sure!" Feliciano cooed. Lovino smiled into his arm, just thinking about the food. He should have asked for more dressing—sure, ranch was great, but imagine some honey mustard, some barbeque sauce, some  _honey barbeque_. He could feel his mouth water just imaging it.

"Order 251!" the boy called again after a good minute or two. Lovino lifted his head now, furrowing his brows. There was a sugar mess all over the table, the packets Feliciano had gotten for his coffee torn open, dusting the grey with speckled white. Lovino stood up.

"Do you know where my friend went?" Lovino asked, coming up to the counter.

"He left a few minutes ago," the boy said.

Lovino cursed under his breath.

"Sir! Your order!" the boy yelled after him as he bolted out the door.

The sun was excruciating above him, and the winding heat that hit him the second he left the restaurant drained him of his energy. He looked around, trying to find Feliciano. Had he started back towards the diner on foot? Had he called a cab or ride service? Lovino growled, jumping from foot to foot nervously.

Quickly pulling out his phone, starting towards the diner, he plugged Feliciano's number in. It went straight to voicemail, meaning that the kid had either ignored his call or had turned off his phone. He tried again, and then again, with no change of outcome. Typing in a harsh message about killing him if he got himself killed, Lovino tapped into his Uber app hoping that the driver that had just dropped them off was still nearby. They had ended up in the next town over just-to-be-safe, and if Feliciano had found himself his own ride there was no way Lovino would be able to jog and catch up.

He waited on the curb, a perturbed whore with his arms crossed over his chest, dying in the heat but too anxious to step back into the restaurant. His driver pulled up in the mini-van she had dropped him off in.

They were outside the diner within thirty minutes (traffic picking up due to the time) and Lovino groaned when he saw Feliciano's car parked outside. As they peeled out, Lovino giving his driver Feliciano's address, he noticed what looked to be a slash in the kids tire. His heart dropped into his stomach. "And fucking hurry. I'll pay any ticket you fucking get."

It felt like years before they were pulling into the vast area of Feliciano's apartment complex. Lovino pointed out the spot near the small park, begging her to stay put so that he could go get his friend, before bolting across the way. A few people were out, a small group in front of the stairs that led to Feliciano's apartment. "Move!" he growled, shoving past them and up the stairs.

He found Feliciano's door unlocked. His chest filled with relief.

Entering the dark apartment, he sighed in relief when he saw Feliciano siting on the couch, his figure illuminated by the blue light from the television screen. A news broadcast was playing, and from the sounds of it, it was covering a segment about the shooting.

"Feliciano," Lovino said angrily, closing the door behind himself. "I told you not to—"

He cut himself off. Something wasn't right. Standing rigid in his spot by the door, he attempted to clear his throat and try again. "Feli—Feliciano," he said. Something shook him to the core, but he didn't know what, or why, or how or when or—

Or why his friend was so stiff.

Or why his friend's jaw hung open.

Or why, when his friend's head lulled to the side, the dark circles around his eyes now black against snow white skin, he couldn't move, he couldn't scream; he could only stare.

Feliciano sat there, still, milky white eyes staring forward, just at Lovino but—but he doubt they saw anything, almost as if they were looking at the wall behind him. Lovino's jaw trembled.

No, this was all some big joke. There was no way he could look like this. Even—even if he—even if he had been killed in the last hour that they had been apart, he wouldn't be so pale, his eyes so dark—he wouldn't. He couldn't. There was no blood, there was no—

His thought process was cut off, but not by himself. No, it was by the sudden movement. The sudden movement of Feliciano.

His head went from lulled to one side idly to being snapped back, his chin pointed to the ceiling as if someone held him by the neck. Lovino stepped back, a cry escaping his lips.

A sickening crunch broke through the dimly lit room, the center of Feliciano's face being torn open, and if something had penetrated his nasal cavity from inside his mouth. Lovino covered his own mouth, stifling a scream, tears, scared, streaming down his face as he could do nothing but watch. The boy's body was raised slowly into the air, blood streaming down his face only to dry and harden at an impossible speed, crusting and boiling. The sickening stench of decomposition filled the air. Feliciano's body bloated and then melted, drop by drop, pale becoming black in the television's blue blink. It was as if the boy had been hoisted onto a meat hook and left to rot for months.

Lovino turned away, reaching for the door, keeling over, wanting to retch what he didn't have in his stomach. He was met by a small figure. In the dark the child's skin glowed white, frosty and frozen. His arms were bare now, the orange hoodie nowhere to be found.

"It's a shame," Gabriel said. His voice was a million miles away, a million miles from Lovino's sobs, his gagging, his helplessness. "He had been so close to finding me."

Lovino shook his head, whispers filling his head as he cried, sobbed, choked against the floor. No! He hadn't been close! There was nothing to find! Nothing!

A sharp ding pierced the air around him. "Order 251!"

Lovino threw his head up, pushing away from the table. His chair toppled backward, sending him sprawling across the floor. His heart pounded, his stomach was somewhere else and he could still feel the tears on his face. The world was suddenly lit brilliantly, the air cool and swarming around him.

"Lovino!" Feliciano cried, standing up in surprise, dropping a sugar packet he had been in the process of dumping into his coffee. The white sand-like grains spilled all over the table, speckling the grey table.

Lovino picked himself up, stealing forward to examine his friend. The kid's olive skin was still flushed with life, his eyes, though widened with concern, were honey, his face was together, he was okay. He was alive. He was alive.

Lovino scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to calm his breathing, his trembling body. He wanted to embrace the boy, but he also wanted to scream; wanted to punch somebody. "We are not going back to your apartment!" he screamed, passion taking him for a spin. No matter how lively the kid looked right now, he couldn't erase the other image. The torn hole, the smell of rot that clung to the inside of his nose.

"I know," Feliciano insisted, "you already said that!"

"Yeah," Lovino barked, tearing his hand away from his face to glare, "and you have a habit of telling people what they want to hear to get your fucking way! We aren't fucking going back. So—So, get that little plan of sneaking out while I'm distracted out of your god damn fucking head before you fucking get yourself killed!" He was choking up, his hunger had dissipated, his pulse raced.

"I wasn't—"

"Don't— _Don't fucking lie_ ," Lovino growled, jabbing his finger into the kid's chest. "You don't think I know you well enough by now? Get this fucking thing out of your head. Don't—just," he shook his head. Yeah, he must look real intimidating, on the verge of tears, his voice quivering as much as his hands.

He sunk into his chair, closing his eyes, wishing he could keep the tears back. He never cried in public, ever, but here he was, sobbing like a child, shaking his head and trying to clear his thoughts.

"I'll—I'll go get the food," Feliciano offered weakly. Lovino opened his eyes to watch through blurred vision. Feliciano walked up to the counter, grabbed their order and was back, punctually setting Lovino's chicken nuggets in front of him with a confused, almost sympathetic smile.

Lovino hated everything about this kid he decided, bringing his shirt collar up to wipe his eyes.

He didn't know how he was going to be able to eat. He was no longer hungry, his mind swimming, his anxiety spiked, and every movement or sound asked—demanded—for his full attention. He just didn't know.

Turns out he would eat aggressively.

Feliciano sipped at his coffee as Lovino downed every last crumb. The afternoon sun still streamed through the windows.

The ghost kid's words circled through Lovino's head. Feliciano was close to whatever mystery shrouded the kid's disappearance. Had it really been a cop?

"Felicaino," he said, his food long gone and the third cup of Sprite in the process of being chugged. Feliciano hummed back, glancing up from his phone. "I was just—what did you find? What's so important at your apartment?"

Feliciano took a long second to respond, but when he did Lovino's heart dropped. "I went back to the police station without telling you," he said, "and they—uh gave me access to their evidence locker. I was looking for anything owned by Gabriel's father, but instead I was given something that was owned by Gabriel himself. A hoodie. It wasn't marked as his though. It was marked under another name, but his name was clearly written just under the tag. Gabriel Rodriguez. I texted Alfred about it, and he was able to request the documents on the case that the hoodie had been written under. Turns out another kid in Arizona disappeared in a similar matter to Gabriel; reports of abusive parents and then poof, gone."

"Yeah, but how does that help? Sure, you have a hoodie—" Lovino dared not ask its color—"but that proves nothing."

"No, but it did tie Detective Berwald to both scenes," Feliciano said.

Lovino blinked. "Wait, was he-!"

Feliciano shook his head. "No, I don't know who was at the diner. I just know that one of them was a cop."

Lovino sighed, biting at his fingernail as he thought. So, Feliciano could be onto something.

"He had been so close…"

"Feli," Lovino decided timidly.

"Yeah?"

"Can, can you see him—did you seem him, too?"

He dared a glance at the confused teen. "See the cop?"

"No, did you see Gabriel?"

"I don't know what you mean," Feliciano replied. "Did I see Gabriel where?"

Lovino grunted, sitting back in his chair (threatening another falling-over) "anywhere! I don't know! Did you see the kid's ghost or not?"

Feliciano was silent for another long moment. Lovino watched his face, anticipation rising when Feliciano took a deep breath, parted his lips with a quiet response. "Lovino—"

"Yes?"

"I think you need more sleep than I do."

Lovino groaned, a bit hurt, taking his straw between his teeth and sucking down the carbonated syrup. His little tanrum was disrupted, however, when Feliciano's phone buzzed.

Feliciano grabbed it, quickly unlocking it and taking in the information with greedy eyes.

"What is it?" Lovino asked, watching his friend's expression go from excited to worried.

"The records," Feliciano muttered under his breath, "they changed."

"What?"

"Al's been watching Gabriel's records through his old partners database for any updates. They changed."

"What do they say now?" Lovino asked slowly.

Feliciano just shook his head, sliding the phone over to Lovino.

Lovino's breath caught.

What had before been labeled  _missing_  or  _homicide_  was erased. There wasn't a trace of Gabriel's biological father, either. Now, there was just one document.

A picture of Gabriel, looking a bit sick but definitely  _alive,_  was shown.  _Missings_ replaced with  _found_.

What.

The.

Fuck.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_The spoopy-est part about this chapter is that Lovino successfully ate 80 chicken nuggets, amIright?_


	7. Sept

What the fuck?

"No! This is impossible!" Lovino howled, standing with the phone as if the slight change of altitude would affect what he was seeing. Alive? Found? No, that wasn't right. His whole body convulsed with confusion, desperation, anger. He despised being tricked. This—this couldn't be anything but that! "Gabriel is dead!"

"Lovino," Feliciano stammered, looking around them anxiously, putting out his hand to try and cajole his friend back into his chair. "You sound like a lunatic; sit down."

Lovino glared at him. Feliciano hadn't been the one at fault here, he knew that, but how could he push aside the feeling in his gut that told him everything was wrong? He had seen—well he had witnessed whatever the hell happened in his apartment! Feliciano had found the hoodie! How could his mind be aware of things when he as a person wasn't?

Everything around him was straight out of a fucking book and he couldn't handle it. In his head he had a job, bills, a friend, a car that was running low on gas, and a stomach turned sour. He had no business to be playing with whatever  _this_  was. No business with shady police officers, missing-found- _dead_  ghost children; no business holding police documents in his hands, no business sitting in a fast food restaurant at five in the afternoon shrouded by the constant feeling that he was going to pass out or get into a fist fight or start screaming at the top of his lungs out of frustration. What was happening!

"No, he's  _not_  alive," Lovino decided, relatively quieter to his last revelation.

Lovino would later register how scared Feliciano looked in that moment, staring at him with a quiet bite and wide, amber eyes that tried to smile at him; but, in that moment, the only things that fell through his conscious were images of the dead boy, both Gabriel and Feliciano, and the trickling, freezing words:

_"He had been so close to finding me."_

"Feliciano! You have proof! You know;  _you know_! You know that he isn't dead—you've been investigating, haven't you?"

"I—" Feliciano started, but Lovino was too far ahead of himself, cutting off the other.

"You found the hoodie! Was—Was it orange? If it was then he's dead. I—I don't know what else to—Wait! Trinity Lake!—or maybe Arizona? The father was found before or after he was killed? I—What information did you find on—on that other kid? Had he been found, uh, frozen. Like he had been stuck in a winter storm—only, no! He hadn't been frostbitten, had he? Fuck! Fuck!" Lovino finally threw himself into the chair, balancing his head on both hands, dry heaving into the table. "Where had he been killed? Did a cop really take him out of the state to do it? Is Arizona even cold enough in December to kill someone like that? I guess someone could use a large freezer—then it doesn't matter what state they're in. Who was Gabriel close with; maybe he had gone to police after his—no! We don't even know if that kid is a reliable source of information—but-!"

Dark splotches dotted the grey table beneath him. He didn't know anything!  _What was happening_! He shook his head, frustrated.

"Well!" he screamed, "answer me, damn it!"

He couldn't say who he was yelling at. Himself, Gabriel (who could very well be himself), or Feliciano. Whomever it was became irrelevant, as no one answered.

Lovino realized he was still holding Feliciano's phone and pushed it back at him.

Feliciano picked it up tentively, turning it off and pocketing the device. "How did you know?" he asked quietly.

"What?" Lovino muttered, taking to resting his head on folded arms.

"The—How did you know that the hoodie was orange?"

A dagger stabbed Lovino through the heart, piercing his stomach. "Fuck." Looking up at Feliciano, ignoring the constant looks thrown at them from the kid at the counter—he looked scared, his hand now always below the counter as if about to reach for a phone or gun—he shook his head. "I know because—" because why? How did one say something this ludicrous without being deemed insane?

They didn't.

"I don't know, it's just a gut fucking feeling," he finally snapped. "This whole god damn ordeal is just me going by my fucking gut."

Feliciano fingered a fry, never breaking a full-faced stare. "And—What does your gut say? About—"

"It tells me that he's dead," Lovino cut in, not listening for the end of the question. "It tells me that  _that_ kid in the picture isn't him. I don't know! I can't explain it, I can't put it in fucking words. I just  _know_!"

Feliciano was silent for a long while after that. Lovino replaced his forehead to a resting position. What were they supposed to do from here? Neither of them could go home; fearful of getting shot. Lovino had probably just gotten fired, Feliciano's tires were slashed, the whole fucking world was in flames and Lovino didn't know.

He didn't know.

It was that realization—finally neither used for vexation or to prove a point, just realized as the truth—that calmed him down. He breathed in deeply, the grey table twirling the air, making it stuffy between his body heat and its inanimation. His heart was slow but strong in his chest, making his shoulders weak and his vision dot and spark.

"Lovino, are you sure?"

"Yes," he mumbled, defeated.

"Then we need to go to my apartment."

Lovino chuckled ironically, quiet, assisted by a small shake of his head. "Trust me, that's the last thing that we're going to do."

A tight screech crashed into the air, Feliciano had upset his chair, pushing it out to stand. "No, Lovino I'm serious! We need to go!" He sounded scared.

Lovino caught his arm just as he was turning. "No, Feliciano! We're not going to your apartment!"

"You don't underst—"

" _You_  don't understand!" Feliciano, blue light, melting, boiling, trickling—no. "There is—"

"Lovino!" Feliciano snapped, tearing his arm away and focusing with a serious golden stare. "You need to listen to me! You—Well—ugh!" He seemed genuinely frustrated, combing his hair with shaking fingers and a huff. Lovino almost even thought that he caught a hushed curse under the kid's breath. "I," he continued, angry now, "have given you ample opportunity to understand," he accused. "It's your fault that this hasn't been fixed yet! If you would just open your mind!"

"Just trust me!" Lovino screamed back, ignoring the sinking in his chest, "I—I can't explain it, but—"

"Uh—Uhm, I—sirs?" someone introduced sheepishly.

"What?" Lovino and Feliciano demanded in unison. The cashier shrunk another step away, a cradled phone against his cheek.

"My—My manager is—" he scantily motioned the phone towards them, "she says that you have to leave or else she'll call the cops."

The sparks of the boys' fuses dimmed; Lovino wouldn't understand just how vastly different their reasonings had been until had worked himself ragged to try and figure the boy across from him out. Feliciano's demeanor softened. He blinked, leaving his eyes closed for a split second longer than necessary before, with a tight-lipped smile, he nodded at the boy whom looked upon him with fear.

"Tell her that we're terribly sorry for the disruption and will evacuate promptly." He glanced over at Lovino, as if to say something, but instead picked up his empty cup and dwindling fries and turned, dumping his handful into the trashcan on his way out.

Lovino followed quickly, fumbling with his own items. "Feliciano, wait!" Feliciano walked briskly down the sidewalk, hands straight at his sides as he did so. Lovino kept his temper as even as he could. "Where are you going?" he demanded.

Feliciano ignored him, continuing down his path until he turned, and then turned again, and again; Lovino having caught up with him after the first turn was now, trudging beside him, simply satisfied with the fact that the kid seemed to have let the apartment thing go.

Lovino felt helpless. There was nothing that they could do, their hands were tied. They could find another establishment to sit at, call in a friend—one of Feliciano's friends. Did Lovino have anyone else that would get him out of this mess? Maybe he could hit up Kiku. The Asian seemed to like him enough not to hate him.

Feliciano stopped suddenly. He turned to Lovino, his eyes were sad, his whole self composed. He never broke eye contact, Lovino would later wonder whether it was because he had already seen them coming; a hint of a car, a footstep Lovino hadn't caught, too stuck in his head. "I'm sorry for getting you punched," he said, seemingly sincere, but Lovino would doubt that tomorrow. He laughed weakly. Lovino didn't know what to do, this was some new fucked up form of warfare—if it wasn't why did he feel like this? "I'm glad he didn't do worse," how could he say that cheerily? "But…the note was never meant for the Rodriguezes. I just couldn't tell you, or give you something that would tell you, upfront. It's—I just—" his face fell into that warm innocent smile that Lovino knew so well yet, in this moment, wanted nothing to do with because it was just so stupid and out of place. He felt for the first time that Feliciano was the one tricking him.

And it was the breath that he was preparing to curse the kid with that choked him when Feliciano moved in closer. Lovino hated this feeling. It was a bad feeling, a horrible feeling, a flickering pulse and the suffocating awareness of Feliciano's lips on his ear. It was a feeling that he never ever wanted to feel again because it was a package deal, even if he didn't know it right then. But tomorrow's knowledge doesn't snuff out the current day's events.

Feliciano's words were slow, calm. Lovino focused, and Feliciano must have known he was focusing too hard because he stared his message over, desperately squeezing Lovino's arm. Lovino caught on.

He mouthed each letter as the boy talked, drawing out the movements, with all concentration akin as he attempted to reroute his blood to the right head. He hadn't caught any of the words, just the letters. URTFIVLFGGSVXLWVKOVZH

Figure out the code pleas.

Lovino wouldn't wonder why the last letter of the phrase was never said.

"Feliciano Varmint," someone said from behind them. Lovino jumped, his skittering heart chugging along, a sudden flush of shame breaking across his whole body. Feliciano stepped down, inhumanly calm with one final brush against Lovino's hand. Leaving something behind, something blocked and slim. His phone? Feliciano stood tall, honey eyes confident as he stared at the newcomer.

Lovino turned to find two men. Both wore police uniforms. Lovino lost his breath again. One of the men held a badge in front of him, his dark eyes pooling into tanned skin and a mess of curls on his head.

"Officer Carriedo," he introduced promptly. "You're under arrest for impersonating a police officer."

Lovino shot a wide-eyed glance between Feliciano and the officers. Feliciano didn't offer him anything, not even a look. "Is that all?" he practically sighed.

"Is there more we should know?" the police officer asked.

"No."

Lovino shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have pocketed the kid's phone and lied about knowing anything (was it really a lie?). He should have just forgotten him. He should've. But he didn't.

Turns out he didn't even know the kid's password.

The night was growing older and older, Lovino was no closer to cracking the code. He sat in his own apartment, aware of every little sound, every change of the wind, creak in the boards surrounding him. He left only the Livingroom light on, making sure his curtains were drawn and every door was closed.

Feliciano had taken particular care with this code. Atbash, Ceasar shifts, even word-orders—no matter what he tried it didn't work!

He looked over the starting letters of each word:

NYXWMDDFIUEKXCPHOBOHUGPUT BOZRJXWNPPNKEZGNBNKAJJJIF TJZDAPEOEBOHSUCENAXWJGXAR FWHZHDGZPHCTYMM

No matter what he plugged it into he couldn't figure it out. He scrubbed down his face, ignoring the pain of his bruise. His mind attempted to skip back to highschool, to smirking at dumbasses that couldn't figure out the puzzle he had put up on the board.

"What," he would laugh, "don't you know how to read a simple column cipher?"

Only this wasn't a stupid ego thing, and there was no white board to assist him. He groaned, throwing the paper away from himself and leaning back.

Feliciano was taken by the cops! The same fucking people that had been shooting at them a handful of hours ago! How was he even sure that the kid was even still alive? He didn't have time for this! Why didn't Feliciano just tell him what he wanted to say in that moment?

Lovino was coming to realize that he knew little to nothing about the kid. Feliciano was religious, family oriented, adventurous, and the most annoying person in the world. He was a nuisance, clingy, and a player-in-denial. He was Lovino's best—only (a thing he would only admit here, alone, and desperate)—friend. Only, it didn't seem like any of these characteristics held up anymore. Now he was some law-breaker who only spoke in codes and was probably only manipulating Lovino.

"Fuck," Lovino moaned, beating his hand onto the table. "Fuck! Who the hell are you? What the fuck is so important?"

Taking a break from the note he clicked on the boy's phone. It was a lettered passcode; number of letters indeterminate. Lovino stared into the open keyboard, it's grey-and-black background daring him to type in another code. He only had three trys left. He threw it across the room.

Standing he twirled around. Fuck! He needed a fucking couch! He bit his thumb, initially going for the nail but finding the grind just as satisfying. What was he going to do? Cry? That was definitely becoming an option.

Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes, slumping against the wall. He just needed to think. Feliciano knew what he was doing; he knew that Lovino didn't know his passcode, so he would have given it to him.

Or he would have given him the hint needed to break the note's code and put his phone's password in that.

Fuck.

He tried to conjure up anything weird that Feliciano did. Recently, within the last year, at anytime ever. How much of Feliciano's queer charm been him trying to tell Lovino something?

Recent: he had gotten arrested for impersonating a fucking cop. Joy. Also recent: he had decided to pick up some random ass missing-person's case, despite not giving much of a fuck when Lovino had first told him about it. Recent: he had decided to stop sleeping. Recent: he had texted Lovino about losing his faith right after dragging Lovino's ass to church.

Within the last year: he had dragged Lovino around to every museum, movie theater, haunted house or tourist-y location Kansas had to offer. Within the last year: He had found a way to be dumped only to be the happiest fucking soul the next day, only to send a coded text the following week about being heartbroken. Within the last year: the kid had decided to befriend Lovino. Within the last year: he had gotten five new phones. Or was it six? It was too many; he always just said that he was on some stupid contract that was always sending him new phones.

Within the last forever: well, Lovino wasn't sure he could count on what he had been told. Was the kid's family life like he had advertised? Was his high school really that big, or was he actually really good at soccer and baseball?

Who was this kid? And why was Lovino trying so fucking hard to figure it out?

Figure out the code pleas—where had the e gone? Had Feliciano just forgotten it?

Striding over to the phone Lovino quickly typed 'pleas.'

**2/10 chances remaining**

Fuck!

He was playing a game that he didn't know the rules to.

Slumping to the floor he shoved his face into his knees. "What is it?" he asked himself again and again. "He likes showtunes and art and fucking stupid things—is it something like that?" Not likely if he was changing out his phone so much to keep something hidden. Did that even work now-a-days with cloud saving everything device-to-device? "Does it have to do with Christianity? His family? He's always talking about random shit—how am I suppose to wade through it all? Fuck! Why can't he just be upfront with these things? How long had he known he was being trailed? When did he fucking decide to set up this fucking treasure hunt? Fuck!"

It was just past three a.m. when Lovino woke up. He had dozed off, but he was almost grateful. He hadn't dreamt of anything, and he was exhausted when he opened his eyes, but his mind was clear and his body felt light.

And a single string of words ran through his head.

_"If you would just open your mind!"_

Chewing on his nail he carefully typed it in, letter by letter.

Open your mind.

The phone clicked as he was given access.

He sighed, shaking his head and wishing that Feliciano wasn't such a fucking idiot.

He went through the boy's contacts, looking for Alfred or Al or Jones or whatever Feliciano would have named him under. There didn't seem to be anything. Not only that, but when Lovino clicked into Recent Messages there was nothing. His messages between him and Lovino weren't even there.

Lovino had a creeping suspicion that if he continued to search he wouldn't find an account tied to anything.

Lovino was so close yet so far! Something in this phone held the key to the code, he was sure of it. Checking the internet history, he found it wasn't cleared, but it also held nothing of interest. It was too clean! A social media account here, a porn site there, a random search for lyrics or videos. Nothing screamed out to Lovino as unusual, and his gut told him that it had been intentional.

He was ready to give up when a the small device buzzed.

A number he didn't recognize, one that wasn't in the contacts.

_3:04 am_

**This is Detective Jones, I see that you've gotten in. Who was sent to arrest him?**

Lovino both wanted to throw the phone out of the window (shivers now raking his body) and call this number to scream and ask why everyone knew more than he did. Neither of these options were viable, he decided, and so he replied.

* * *

_3:04_

**Car-something. Looked Mexican.**

_3:04_

**Carriedo?**

_3:04_

**Yes. Do you know the key to Feliciano's note?**

_3:07_

**What note?**

_3:07_

**He fucking accused the Rodriguez family of killing their son then tried to make it out like the note was some fucking code.**

_3:08_

**Send me a fax**

_3:10_

**No I will send you a picture**

_3:10_

**Incoming call**

* * *

"Do you want your friend to be thrown in jail?"

Lovino could feel the scowl flushing onto his face. "No! That's the only reasoning I'm not sleeping right now, fucktard!"

"Tone, boy. Fax me the message now. Feliciano only has 24 hours from his arrest."

"What—"

"If the police discover enough evidence to officially charge him of anything he's likely not to be released until his sentence is up."

"Sentence!"

"Fax me the fucking message!"

* * *

Lovino hated everything about this. For one, dry lightning cracked across the sky; for two, the beautiful woman he had been forced to text was under the impression that she was coming to meet Feliciano, not him. He was terribly nervous, trying to think up some excuse as to why Feliciano wasn't here. He had become ill. He was getting food. Sudden family issues but he really needed this done.

However, when Michelle walked up the steps to meet him, the sadness in her eyes shut him up. "Where's Feliciano?" she asked quietly.

"I—uh—he's—"

She shook her head, unlocking the door with an evident frown on her face. "Tell him I'm sorry," she practically begged, before turning to leave.

"Wait!" Lovino called.

She turned, hopeful.

"Can you show me how to use a fax machine?"

* * *

_3:38_

**You have the key**

_3:38_

**What the hell took you so long! And no I don't**

_3:38_

**He wouldn't give you this without giving you the key. It's a Vigenere Cipher**

_3:39_

**You can't know that**

_3:45_

**I'm the one who taught it to him. I know the pattern. Don't contact me until you've figured out the key.**

* * *

Lovino paced, cursing the whole time. He was never given a key! If it really was a Vigenere Cipher than it could literally be anything. A number, a word, a phrase, a anything. The longer the better!

Lovino stared at the list of first-letters of the accusing list.  _Open your mind_? It could be that, but would Feliciano risk it? Make it his password and his key?

Lovino sent his question to Detective Jones. The man just sent back a crude emoji. Lovino sneered. "Old fucking people these days."

He continued thinking on the topic, pacing his floor with huffing breaths.

Why hadn't Feliciano included an e?

* * *

_4:10_

**URTFIVLFGGSVXLWVKOVZH. It's the key.**

_4:11_

**Are you sure?**

_4:13_

**Positive.**

_4:30_

**Incoming call**

* * *

"You need to go to his apartment. There's a secret compartment in his bottom dresser drawer with a box of evidence. Find it and keep it hidden."

"What?" Lovino demanded. "Won't that make me an assistant to some crime."

There was a long pause, almost light, a groaning sigh, only Lovino was deaf to it. "You already are one. Now hurry up. The police are going to be searching his building today."

"How do you know?"

"Just go!"

* * *

Lovino hated everything about Feliciano. He hated that he was some criminal, he hated that he was so fucking secretive, he hated that his dad had a friend that was a cop, but most especially he hated that he had given Lovino a spare key to his apartment.

"Fuck you and your fucking trust in me," Lovino muttered as he unlocked the door.

He stared forward at the empty couch, his stomach churning as the feeling of phantom eyes settled onto his chest. He would never be able to walk into this apartment like before. Never without seeing his dead best friend, feeling the presence of a dead child paces behind him. Shaking the thought from his head Lovino made his way to Felicaino's bedroom.

For being a secret compartment, it lacked in different types of pornos. Lovino quickly upheaved the box, allowing the dirty magazines to settle back amongst the socks and underwear. Feliciano really needed to be more imaginative. Imagine if they found some German furry shit. That would deter them.

Lovino pushed the drawer closed with his foot, trying to make as little noise as possible. Quickly leaving, he shot one last look at the couch. No blue light, no dead friend. Still, his heart pounded as if he had dodged a bullet.

Maybe he needed a therapist.

* * *

"I don't know where to fucking put this shit!" Lovino screamed into the phone. The orange hoodie from his nightmares along with a police badge sat before him, mocking him like flames of a house fire.

"Just keep them hidden long enough for Feliciano to be released! He'll deal with them afterwards."

"And what if the police come to my door?"

"Tell them that you doubt Feliciano would do anything like that. Have you never watched T.V. before?"

After getting off the phone, Lovino groaned. He picked up the hoodie and badge—ignoring the tingling sensation of his fingers against the fabric or his interest of the copper design—and walked circles around his apartment. He had to find somewhere to put them that the police wouldn't look. He would have to go to work tomorrow—today—too. To not raise any suspicion; and to also not get sacked before he had time to think about anything but dead children and mysterious kids.

Finally he decided to hide it in his bathroom cabinet, hidden behind towels and a list of medications and random junk he had stuffed in. He smiled; for once being a slob payed off.

Laying down to get some sleep before work, Lovino couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

He was too tired to dwell on it.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Sorry this took so long to get out. my schedule has been wack_

_Okay, as some of you know, and others of you don't, I will be going on vacation in a few days. For some that means not doing anything at all for a week, for me that means getting all the writing possible done while trying to balance sister-bonding (my older sister actually has an account on here: animeobsessed001 . It's inactive right now, but if my little ass is successful at convincing her to write it may pick back up here soon~). My question for you guys is:_

_Do you mind 2+ updates in one day?_

_I usually just publish when I finish a chapter so that my mind can put it aside and I can focus fully on the next installment, but I also know that I personally don't always like update-after-update (unless I'm enamored with the story, of course). Even this one-a-day that I sometimes accomplish seems a bit too much sometimes (much for you; I kinda have to write as much as possible).  
_

_Also: can someone explain GerIta to me. I remember when I was a kid I absolutely adored it-but I think that was because I adored the fanart. Like, am I the only one that feels to make GerIta work you have to strip one of the characters down, making at least one of them dull and not fully-rounded?_ Auf Wiedersehn, Sweetheart _did it perfectly by making the connection situational, but sometimes I wonder if that's the only way the pairing works. I dunno, maybe I haven't developed Ludwig in my head as much as I have Feliciano and Lovino. If one of you guys want to, send me a list of characteristics that you think Ludwig has (be it cannon or original.)_

_(^Says the chick that had been writing GerIta since she was 10)_


	8. Huit

Lovino clung to his shoulders. Everything was so bitter, so frigid and solid; he felt that any movement would cause the world to shatter and break. A million frozen pieces of long, glistening grain; a million pieces of the concert soil beneath him. Not a cloud in the dark sky. Not a drop of snow on the ground, despite the below freezing temperatures.

Something about the cold hurt his head. The bitterness seeped in through his skin, drinking away the moisture from his body, leaving him dehydrated, leaving the front of his skull to expand, streams causing the bone to swell and brain to throb.

Everything was slow. To him, anyway. His thoughts, his blinking, his processing of what he was seeing. It was so dark, but the sky was so bright. It tormented him. Stars twinkling and dancing above him, the moon yellow.

That yellow is what stared him in the face, reflecting off a silver bucket. It was large, multi-gallon, with a thin metal handle that stuck out from two sharp holes that had been drilled in its lip. Lovino tried to catch his own reflection, but it was impossible with that yellow light, bearing and blinding. The bucket was empty, Lovino knew this. It was his gut. He hated his gut.

Why was that an important fact?

He wanted nothing but to return to the heat of Kansas, but he couldn't. Not when the world around him was so dark. A yearning sat in his chest. It hurt more than the bruise on his face, on his arms, on his torso. It hurt more than the welts and the tears. It hurt more than the fear of the stray dog's howl, of the barn's swirling light. It hurt more because he knew that it was his mistake that landed him here. It hurt because he would take a million more lashes, screams, and hits just to be able to return to the warmth of his room.

It was so cold. He was so far away from everything he knew. The bucket was empty but there wasn't a single drop of snow on the ground.

He tried to lift his head. He was so weak. His body burned against the frost of his clothing. His muscles felt stretched and filled with a million shattered bones.

If he could just go to sleep, everything would be alright in the morning. The world would warm up again, he would be alright then. He could go for help.

Closing his eyes was easy.

The pain numbed on its own.

All he had to do was go to sleep.

It was that thought that sprung Lovino into a sitting position. His heart pounded against his ribs, his mouth dry, cotton, and his whole body broken in an uncomfortably warm sweat.

A deep-set pain still riveted within his body. His lungs were filled with ice; refusing to let him breath normally for long moments. All he could do was stare forward, shaking his head silently, trying to forget everything he felt.

Going to wipe his forehead, he saw through the darkness and the crusts of his eyes the neon orange of the hoodie. He clutched it in a balled fist—only, he never had it in the first place. Finding his passion, his quickness away from the cold, he pushed the tattered apparel away, letting it fall to the floor, jumping to put the bed between him and the hoodie. His pulse accelerated.

"It's one thing to see things," he said to himself, wiping his hands on his pants in a hurried manner, "it's another thing to have things appear in your fucking hands."

Walking around the bed, he peeked just to make sure the hoodie was still there.

It was.

His phone told him it was only nine in the morning, which explained the sun and why he was still tired, but it refused to answer his silent question as to what the fuck was happening. After a while of trying to recollect himself, the images of his dream stuck as wisps in his vision—a farmhouse, a glowing sky, a body enveloped by frozen grass—he stooped down to pick up the jacket.

He almost expected to see a dead boy peering up at him from under the bed.

Returning the hoodie to its original place (and totally not freaking the fuck out when he saw the badge went seemingly undisturbed) Lovino straightened in the mirror and tried to offer himself a grim smile. The bruise had taken a green tint, his hair was almost black, soaked and disheveled.

Leaving the bathroom before his anxiety, fearful of something being in the mirror behind him, kicked in, Lovino found that he couldn't put aside the dream. He couldn't relax, could hardly say anything. The feeling of being alone, yearning for the warmth of something familiar and safe—it stuck with him. In his chest, a solid ball of stone.

Sitting on his bed, he shakily dialed the number. It was the only number he knew by heart—hell, he didn't even know his number well enough to give it out. His fingers wobbled against the keys. He could feel tears prickling his eyes, his shoulders quivering, his cheek speaking out in protest as he placed his phone against it.

"Hello?"

He had to bite his cheek to keep from crying his response. "Mom?" he said quietly, wondering if the low chuckle he let out was appropriate, or if it was a dead give-away that he was about to break down, "long time no talk."

* * *

His chest felt lighter a couple hours later. His mother had berated him for not keeping in touch, had gone through a checklist of things he needed to remember to do, asked about grandchildren and the likes. By the end of the call, Lovino had found himself smiling despite the moisture on his cheeks.

Now all he could do was groan, realizing his food was still at Feliciano's house and that he would have to either settle for a creative dish of whatever-the-hell-was-in-the-cupboards or grab something quick from down the street. A sudden ringing broke his line of thought. He retraced his steps to his room, grabbing up his phone from its place on his pillow.

Looking at the ID he saw it was his manager. He took a deep breath before answering.

"Hello?"

"Lovino?"

"Yeah."

"Are you coming into work today?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. Er—sorry about yesterday."

She ignored his apology. Maybe because she knew how forced it was, maybe because she didn't care. Either way she was a fucking bitch. "Do you know what Feli is doing? He hasn't answered his phone."

Lovino was about to snap at her, but the sudden realization that  _he_  had the kid's phone made him think twice. He hadn't heard it go off at all.

Quick strides took him to the boy's phone on his coffee table. Turning it over in his hand he made sure it was turned on.

"Are you sure you were calling the right number?" Lovino asked.

"What? Of course, I am. Is he there with you?"

"No. He got arrested."

Maybe if Lovino had been less distracted he would have said something differently. It wasn't an option now; as the words passed his lips he wanted nothing more than to reach out and take them back.

"What!" Elizaveta yelled into the receiver. "For what?"

"I—uh—" he didn't want to get his friend in trouble. Something as serious as impersonation could end up getting Feliciano sacked whether he was guilty or not. He couldn't tell her the real reason! "—public indecency?" Then again, Lovino wasn't good at making up lies on the spot. Ass talker, remember! Fuck! The kid was over twenty-one, maybe their manager would just brush it off as a night out? "Yeah," he tried to continue before she started asking questions. "It was wild. He got smashed to impress some chick and next thing we know he's naked and in cuffs."

"So that's what you were out doing instead of coming into work?"

How did this story paint  _Lovino_  to be the bad guy?

"No," Lovino tried. "I wasn't able to come last night because of unrelated reasons," what reasons? The gun shots were still sharp in his ears. Had that only happened yesterday? It felt weeks old. "But, yeah, someone is going to need to cover his shift."

There was a long silence on the other end. Lovino waited for her to say something, but the sharp dial tone told him that he had been hung-up on. Sighing he clicked out of the call and focused his attention on Feliciano's phone.

Going through the calls he found four missed calls from  _Elli_ , but he was sure that none of them had gone off. Checking the volume, he was set back further, seeing that it was at full blast.

Shaking his head, Lovino decided to forget everything and just focus on his hunger. Damn it, Feliciano.

* * *

Lovino had grabbed something on his way to work rather than risk being caught at the kid's apartment during an active investigation. Alfred had warned him via annoying call, minutes after his manager hung up, that he would be under watch and may be called in for interrogation before the police's 24 hours were up. He had also told Lovino to keep Feliciano's phone on him so that Alfred could update him on what was happening. Lovino had  _tried_  to ask questions, but with that son-of-a-bitch answers were impossible to get.

So, with Feliciano's phone in his pocket and a burger actively being shoved in his face, Lovino showed up to work at the usual time.

He expected to see his manager standing there, working another shift she had planned for them, but instead he saw Kiku, counting his drawer and readying himself to punch in. Lovino hadn't realized how scared he was to work with his manager until then. Smiling and tossing his wrapper in the can, Lovino greeted the mild-mannered teenager with a weak hand motion before grabbing his own drawer and key card.

* * *

"That's great," Lovino ground, trying so-very-hard to not yell, "but it doesn't change the fact that your card was denied."

An older  _gentleman_  stood in front of the counter, huffing and puffing, continuously drumming his useless piece of plastic. "Well—"

"Call your bank or something," Lovino cut him off. "If you're traveling they might've—"

"I already told them I was traveling!"

"Well then tell them  _again_."

"Whatever!" he practically howled, turning on-heel. "I don't trust your pumps anyway!" He mumbled a string of very un-gentle-like-things as he stomped out. Lovino could feel the irritation rise in his chest.

"Kiku," he shouted, turning towards the kitchen area where the Asian boy stood. "I'm off to clean the bathrooms. Cover the front."

Kiku nodded, finishing up the onion he had been cutting and wiping his hands on a blue rag. "Alright, go ahead."

Lovino gathered his supplies, stealing a quick peek at Feliciano's phone in the process. There was no text or missed call. All there was was the time: 7:52. He should be hearing back within the next couple hours from someone, right? If it was true that they only had 24 hours than their time was close to already running out—and there had been no cop coming in to arrest him for possession of evidence, yet.

Pocketing the phone, Lovino pushed the mop bucket in front of himself, securing a snaked headphone into his ear. The restrooms stood adjacent to one another, each in a protruding door either marked  _Male_ or  _Female_. Lovino clicked his tongue, deciding which one to close first. He usually started with the women's restroom, but today decided to change it up.

"Anyone in here?" he yelled, propping the door open with his foot. The only response was the echo of his own voice. Promptly placing a  _Closed for Cleaning: Sorry for the inconvenience_  sign on the door, Lovino got to work. Sweeping up paper towels here, wondering why-the-hell people needed  _that_  much toilet paper to wipe their ass as he unclogged toilet there, aggressively mopping up a blob of shampoo from the cream tile just everywhere, Lovino sighed as he finally got to the trashcans. There was one in every stall (you know, so the men could throw out their tampons—or, in Lovino's vast experience, shit-stained undergarments) that he emptied into the larger trashcan at the front of the room.

Walking across the room, two small cans embraced by gloved hands, Lovino turned back into the front two stalls to replace them. Finding himself in the third stall back a sudden feeling broke his system. He wasn't sure whether his body broke out in a cold sweat before or after he saw the sweeping movement between the stall's cracks, he just knew that his heart dropped to his feet.

Stupidly, he stepped out of the stall to look—not even caring about the trashcan anymore.

There, just outside the bathroom door, cut-off by angled perspective, was Feliciano. Lovino placed a wary hand over the phone in his pocket.

What?

His gut was screaming at him that this wasn't  _actually_  Feliciano, but it looked exactly like him. The boy stared towards the woman's bathroom, his arm outstretched and his lips moving as if he were talking to someone. Lovino had torn out his music. No sound came from the kid.

"Hey—Feli?" he tried nervously. His heart pitter-pattered, his feet unable to move, chained to the floor, forced to watch.

Feliciano looked tired, but lively. His outstretched hand became animated. His smile as he talked fell from his lips in an instant. Suddenly he was stepping back, shaking his head,  _crying_. Lovino wanted to move. Why couldn't he move!

Finally, a sound.

It tore through Lovino's head, as if it was his skull the bullet went through, not Feliciano's.

Tearing forward, screaming the boy's name, Lovino practically fell out door, tripping to meet the figure on the floor.

Only, by way of light and fleeting seconds it had taken Lovino to fall out of the room, the apparition had disappeared.

Lovino bowed his head to the floor. His hear palpitated. No, this was too much. It was too much for him to take—for anyone to take. What the fuck was happening? Why was he seeing these things? The dreams, the made-up versions of his friend, dead, dying. Why?

"Lovino, what's wrong?" Kiku had appeared, worry etching across his voice.

Was Feliciano in trouble? When he had seen him dead yesterday, he had followed his gut and kept the kid from his apartment. What was he to do now? He wasn't even sure if these visions weren't just hallucinations caused by stress. The boy had been found; Feliciano wasn't dead.

Was he willing to risk his friend's life on that gamble?

His hurried steps and lacking apology to Kiku answered his question.

"But-!" Kiku protested.

"I'm sorry, but it's an emergency. Close down the snack bar and call Elli or Glenda to come in." He rambled, grabbing his keys and clocking out. He left the kid a sputtering mess at the back door.

* * *

Lovino wasn't sure what his plan was. He was sure, however, that he was now storming into the police station. "Where is he?" he yelled.

The police station was organized by a front office, or waiting room, that was cut off from the rest of the station by a closed door. It was a stuffy room with stiff benches that smelt of cleaning supplies. No one stood at the receptionist desk; Lovino was alone. "Hello?" he demanded loudly. A young blond hurried in through the door.

"Hello," she greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"My friend was arrested yesterday, and I demand to see him."

She shot him a queer look. "Sir, that's not how we operate."

"I don't care how you operate. If you can't fucking charge him with anything you have to let him go! It's been over 24 hours!"

"Sir, if you—"

"I demand to see him!" Lovino screamed again. The longer the seconds stretched on the more worried he became. Suddenly, the door opened again.

Officer Carriedo walked in, scratching a hand through his messy bed of curls. "Is there a problem out here?"

"Yes," the woman said. "This man claims that his friend should be being released soon and demands to see them. I've been trying to tell him that—"

"Ah! Yes!" the officer chirped. "I remember you. Thank you, Bel, I will take over from here." The Mexican-looking officer send the woman a warm smile. "He's absolutely right. I was just going down to retrieve a mister Varmint from the detention center."

She nodded, turning and disappearing behind the doors again.

"I want to come with you," Lovino demanded.

"Certainly."

Lovino followed behind him in his own car. His fingers drummed against his steering wheel the whole way. The warm spring sun dipped, a burning blood-orange, pinned in the cloud becoming sky. It was a beautiful view if Lovino hadn't been too distracted by the happenings around him.

Pulling into the parking lot, Lovino practically fell out of the vehicle.

"What's the hurry,  _amigo_?" the officer asked calmly. Lovino just shoved his comment aside, walking to pull the door open. It wouldn't budge.

"What—"

The officer was at his side, swiping a quick card in a reader. A beep and a click gave the pair authorization to enter. Lovino watched Carriedo's white keycard retract to his hip again, pulled by a white leash. Right. Detention center.

The two walked through the two set of doors before coming to a long hall. The air was chilly, setting off just all of Lovino's nerves. They stopped at a desk.

"Hello," officer Carriedo said. "I'm here for Feliciano Varmint."

"Antonio?" the man at the desk said, looking up. "Oh, yes. Spell the last name out, please? Alright, yeah he's in room 4. I'll try to ring Oxenstierna and tell him that your coming."

Officer Carriedo nodded his head. "Thank you," he chirped annoyingly. Lovino tossed his weight from one foot to the other.

 _Hurry the fuck up, bastard_ , he wanted to say, but bit his tongue. He was too close to get kicked out now. The officer led the way down a forking hall. Lovino could see through large-panned windows of rooms they passed. All of them were dark, equipped with desks and cushioned chairs. It didn't look like the interrogation rooms he had seen on television, but right now that didn't matter.

Especially when they came to room four and Lovino saw through the window, by way of angled perspective, a cut-off image of Feliciano, his hand outstretch, mouth moving as if he were talking to someone, world mute.

"Hey—yo—Feliciano!" Lovino screamed, forcing himself forward and pounding on the door. Feliciano turned his attention to him, shocked.

"You're gonna have to wait for me to unlock the door," officer Carriedo said, running his keycard again. Lovino pulled the door open.

Feliciano's outstretched hand was grabbing for an offered cup of water. A tall blond in uniform offered it, glaring at Lovino over clear-rimmed glasses. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"Orders to release Mr. Varmint," the officer said. "Unless you've found…"

The detective ran an irritated hand through his hair. "No. I haven't," he almost growled.

Lovino was still trying to catch his breath, calm his tinging nerves. The everlying feeling of disaster slowly faded. Feliciano blinked at him, a calm smile on his features.

There was a long process of paperwork before Feliciano was officially released. Lovino leaned against a wall the whole time, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited. He turned off his phone, Kiku and his manager insistent on not-leaving-him-the-fuck-alone. He knew he was being an ass by leaving work like that, but right now he couldn't care about those things.

Finally, Feliciano came up to him.

"Hi," the kid offered.

Lovino just growled under his breath, turning on heel and walking towards the exit. The world was dark now; the orange sun was gone, replaced by a cloudy evening with a light breeze skidding across the warm ground. Feliciano trailed him to his car, silently taking shotgun.

Lovino slipped into the driver's seat. His head throbbed. Resting his head against the wheel, he attempted to recompose himself beyond the feeling of absolute vexation that settled in his skin.

"You look like shit," Feliciano said quietly.

"Yeah," Lovino barked, shoving his key in the ignition. "It fucking happens."

* * *

Lovino, despite his temper, took the kid to his apartment. To give him the hoodie and badge, he repeated a million times in his head. That, and to maybe get a few fucking answers. Slamming his door, he climbed the stairs to his apartment.

The front was unlocked. He must have forgotten to lock it. Once the two were closed away in familiar quarters, Lovino turned, lips pursed, and his arms crossed accusingly. "Alright," he said. "Out with it."

"Out with—"

"Don't you even dare play fucking dumb!" Lovino screamed, his hands finding life of their own and throwing themselves in the air. "Out with the fucking story. Why do you have a fucking police badge? Why the fuck is there some retired detective tracking the activity to your phone? Hah, why the hell are you getting fucking shot at and arrested, huh? Out with it!"

"I—" Feliciano threw a nervous gaze downward. "Well, you see—"

"And the fucking codes?" Lovino continued bellicosely. "What the fuck is that about, Feliciano? How long have you been lying to me?"

"I never—"

"And how long have you been playing whatever-the-fuck-this-is? Where you even going to say anything?"

"I've said a lot—"

"And the fucking flirting-to-get-information? How long have you been breaking the law? Fuck, your just a fucking liar!"

"Lovino!" Feliciano screamed back. "Shut up and listen to me!"

"Why?" Lovino howled. "So that you can string another fucking lie? You're obviously not going to tell the fucking truth," he took out the boy's phone, throwing it at him. Feliciano stumbled, but caught it. "How many fucking phones have you had in the last year, again?" Lovino asked sweetly. "Tell me, did you tell the truth about  _why_? Which provider are you contracted with again?"

Feliciano's eyes were filled with tears, but his voice was angry as he spoke. "If you would just shut up I could talk!"

"Lie!"

"Lovino you're being antagonistic right now! Just shut up and-!"

"You know what?" Lovino decided, "it doesn't even matter. Save it. Just fucking take your illegal-ass-shit and fucking leave. I don't need this. And, don't even bother calling or texting or what-the-fuck-ever. I quit the truck stop and am leaving in a couple weeks, so you can start your search for someone else to fucking lie to."

"What?" Feliciano demanded, scrubbing at his cheeks roughly. "You quit? Why?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer!" Feliciano insisted.

"Oh, don't you speak code? You see, what I  _actually_  said was 'Shut the fuck up.'"

"Lovino!" Feliciano screamed, balling his fists against his eyes.

"Yes?" Lovino asked innocently. The anger boiled in his chest. He was ready to scream, ready to run, ready to do something other than stare at this ball of pathetic fucking manipulation.

"I'm trying to talk to you!" Feliciano screamed pointedly at him. "Stop cutting me off!"

Lovino couldn't help himself at this point. Anger, irritation, the whole lot swirled through his body. His fist met Feliciano's cheek. Only payback for Lovino's own pulsing bruise.

Feliciano stumbled away, at first shocked, before he responded with a fist of his own. Lovino tried to block it but failed, hot flashes breaking through as Feliciano's knuckles pounded into the side of his head. He growled, angier than ever now, elbows and fists and feet called to action. The two scuffled. At one point, Lovino had pinned the kid against the door, screaming in his face before being cut off by the kid's teeth tearing through his arm. He fell away, a jabbing elbow catching him just under the ribs. The two fought until neither one of them had anymore fire within them.

They stood on opposite sides of the room, nursing their respective wounds. Lovino felt calmer, his attention on the throbbings and jolts of pain. It was quiet.

"I'm helping Alfred," Feliciano said, breaking the silence between them.

"What?"

"With the police work. I'm helping Alfred. He's—He retired after a pretty big scandal in his precinct. Higher orders made it so that he couldn't say anything, and when he caused a raucous against the orders he was pushed to retire or be fired. I was probably still in middle school when it happened. I remember him coming over to drink with my dad, and what he was saying, well, it made sense." Feliciano shrugged. "I was interested in becoming a cop to help people, but from what Alfred was saying that wasn't reality. The cops were as shady as the people they arrested, I guess." The boy smiled down at his hands. "It was weird at first. The badge he gave me is under the name Tino Vainamoinen; a cop that—well, he wasn't good and in the 50's the people took him out, I guess. There was no official report, so when Alfred went in and changed the profile to Active and gave me the credentials, no one batted an eye. It was easy."

"So, what? You play cop for this fucking lunatic."

Feliciano shook his head. "No, you don't understand. Alfred—well—I don't know how to explain it! He wants to continue working, but he can't. He's getting too old for the footwork, and, well, I  _want_  to help. Art is great but—but it doesn't hold anything meaningful in it!"

"Then why don't you go through and join the system like a normal human being?" Lovino demanded.

"Because, it's the system that screws people up, I guess," Feliciano mumbled.

Lovino shook his head. He was too tired to deal with this right now. It was a flimsy explanation, but from what he had seen it almost made sense. Feliciano was a fucking idiot.

"Whatever," he moaned, standing and placing a stable hand against his head. "We'll talk about this tomorrow. It's late and I'm exhausted."

Feliciano nodded. "Mind if I stay over?"

"Did you magically summon your car?"

"What?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, I don't care."

Stepping into the bathroom Lovino turned on his phone. Too many messages and missed calls for his taste. Ignoring his manager's bordering work-inappropriate texts, he quickly typed out a message, telling her that he was putting in his two weeks. He heart throbbed, but his gut agreed.

Coming out he found Feliciano had already made himself at him in his bed. He groaned. "No, out, this is my bed."

Feliciano pouted at him. "It's big enough to share," he whined.

"Nope, out."

Lovino climbed into the bed just as Feliciano was moving to get out. He turned over, allowing his eyes to shut. The previous night's dream filtered in through the fog, the biting cold. All until Feliciano's movements stopped and, as if feeling victoriously sneaking, snaked back into the bed. The kid's warmth broke through the frosted grain and freezing sky.

Lovino would let it slide, but only for tonight.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_My schedule is the worst right now, sorry. Thank you, guys, for your response to the GerIta thing. Good points, good points! That one about the Cinderella Complex may have inspired me into another fic that I'm totally going to write if I come back after basic training._

_I'm realizing that you guys are_ too _confused. This is my first time writing mystery, so I apologize for it seeming scattered and shit. There's just multiple mysteries happening at the same time because Lovino's life is a shit storm. At least I can feel comfortable than none of you guys have predicated the ending. I guess that's a plus_

_Quick note: Alfred is black in this. It kinda matters with his background and motivations and all that fun stuff._

_Question: what are your guy's predictions to how Gabriel died. I feel like I pretty much laid it out, but if you guys still don't have any idea I will definitely revisit it. Haha, if this was an original novel I would leave it frustratingly subtle, but since it's FF and no one is here to study I don't mind writing somethings out!_


	9. Nuef

Up, down; soft, a phantom touch. Lovino opened his eyes, at first confused. Confused by the light touches tracing his arm, the haloed figure, the weight dipping half of his bed. Feliciano's breathing was still steady, the boy's eyes shut—though his eyebrows knit and twist, relaxing for long moments before dancing again. Lovino frowned.

Even in his sleep the kid was touchy. It was subtle, so much so Lovino wondered how he had even woken up to it. Feliciano's fingertips seemed conscious; another round. Up, slow, steady, down, reaching the nook of Lovino's elbow before settling down on his wrist.

It was strange to Lovino. This touch held nothing the ones he was used to did. Perhaps his confusion didn't end with initial indications. There was no hunger behind it, no sexual feelings, no vexation, no humor. It was pure, a touch for nothing but. It wasn't light because it was afraid or coy. Lovino didn't know what to think of it. Part of him wanted to pull away from it. Part of him wanted to wake Feliciano up and tell him to go sleep somewhere else. Part of him wanted to push him away.

The other part of him stared. Feliciano's lip was terribly busted, a deep, purpling cut just etching across his cheek bone. His whole cheek looked puffy. A deep-set guilt settled in Lovino's gut.

This caused even more confliction within his mind. He and Feliciano had been in countless fist fights over the last year. It was what happened when their two personalities clashed. Feliciano would become irritated, Lovino would become violent, and it would end with them screaming at each other, wrestling until pent up aggression on both sides was out. It was what kept their friendship strong. Feliciano could take a punch just as well as he could deliver one, and the agonizing throbbing just beneath Lovino's skin was proof of how well he could throw a punch. If he felt cornered he would play dirty, bite, scratch, stomp, knee. He was a fighter. Lovino always appreciated that.

So, now, when he looked upon the newest wounds, when he wanted to reach out and tend to them, make sure the kid was alright, he couldn't help but feel he was undermining his best friend. Feliciano didn't need his protection, so why did his heart jolt at the thought of him getting hurt? Why did he suddenly hate himself for causing the wounds? Did it have something to do with the terrible apparitions? Feliciano was an idiot, yes, and sometimes he needed Lovino to steer him right, but he was strong, too. And this vindicating thing only proved it further. Sure, he was obviously just some puppet for a vindictive figure, looking to live vicariously through Feliciano, but Feliciano had decided to play along. He was an idiot, but he knew people. He knew when he was being used. Him continuing it meant that he was probably using this Alfred character just as much Alfred was using him.

And yet the swirling fingertips never let on any of these politics. It didn't let on his brazen, flirtatious smiles, touches, comments. It only existed as itself and Lovino couldn't handle it.

Why?

If Feliciano had been female, laying across from him like this, hurt but powerful, reaching out—well, Lovino would have considered it in a different manner. The thought process of maybe being attracted to the boy across from him traipsed into his head, but he couldn't compare this feeling to what he had felt with his exs. Was this feeling to reach out and heal something romantic, or was it something platonic, wrapped up in a confused package? Lovino really, really wasn't good at these things. Had it just been so long since something affectionate had graced him? Sure, Feliciano was the type of character to hug, grab, touch, but Lovino—he had never felt like this. Was it a bad feeling?

Lovino frowned. Hurt but powerful, why did this phrase continue to echo through his head? What was he missing?

In the silence of the morning, an early sun rising, chirping of birds a panel of glass away, creaks and closing doors separated by paper walls, Lovino allowed his hand to reach out and settle against the boy's jaw as he stared, trying to figure at least one thing out in this sea of impossibilities. Feliciano's features seemed to settle. Boyish, puffy, discolored, serendipitous. The boy's touch settled in one spot, palm following fingertips.

And that's when it hit him. He wasn't afraid of leaving. The thought of getting a new job was glorious, ball caps and coffee and music and a possible career. It wasn't that he yearned for companionship, either. At least, he didn't think it was. It was this, whatever  _this_  was. It was Feliciano, his manipulative tendencies, his purity, his potency that mixed so wonderfully with an optimistic point of view. It balanced Lovino, and his gut— _he_  was afraid of what would happen without it. Would Lovino settle back into the levels of aggression he had reached before he had met Feliciano? Would he fear himself again?

His thumb traced across the cut. Feliciano was the worst kind of mystery, because he reached beyond himself. Lovino despised self-reflection. Every time he went down that path he found himself the enemy.

Letting his hand fall back again, Lovino turned away from phantom touches and warm skin. He turned away from the boy that was both helping him grow and sending him into a darkness he never wanted to visit again. Maybe leaving was best. He would find another optimist. Fuck, the internet was full of them. He would find another friend; he would find someone who hadn't seen him at his worst; he would find someone that he could protect instead of hurt.

He would find someone that didn't curl into him so easily; someone that didn't turn out equally dangerous as he did safe. Someone less manipulative, open with his words—Lovino could leave codes behind forever and ever.

But when that phantom touch returned on his back, closer, stronger, Lovino knew how weak he was.

He just wished he knew what the fuck he was feeling.

* * *

When he woke up for a second time, Feliciano was being obtusely loud. He giggled and scrolled through his phone, shifting from side to side, his energetic and boisterous tendencies on full-blast. Lovino groaned, stuffing his face into his pillow.

"Feliciano, shut the fuck up."

"I didn't say anything, Lovi," the boy protested innocently, weakly.

Lovino sent him a glare. Feliciano didn't look at him, too absorbed in whatever was on his phone. He absent-mindedly picked at the bust in his lip. "You're being loud. And stop picking at your lip. You're making it worse."

"Make me," Feliciano teased.

Lovino grumbled, stuffing his face back into the bedding. It wasn't long before his irritation at every little sound roused him into an annoyed sitting position, his feet over the side of the bed. He searched for his phone.

"It's over there," Feliciano said, pointing. "Your phone."

"Why?" he asked, crossing the room.

"It kept going off and I couldn't turn it off."

Going off? Reaching for it, Lovino's mind and heart dropped to his shoes.

"Fuck!" he yelled. "What time is it?"

"Just after seven." How long had he slept? Fuck!

"I'm late for work!"

Feliciano finally took his attention away from his memes. "What? I thought you said you quit?"

"I put in my two weeks," he ground, rushing around his room to find an acceptable pair of jeans and a wrinkled work shirt. "Fuck, they're going to fucking fire me before the two weeks are even fucking up!" Quickly changing he grabbed his keys and started towards the door. "Don't get fucking killed while I'm gone!" he screamed, throwing the door open, fumbling with the button on his pants.

He stopped.

The anxiety and fear that had bubbled in his chest due to being late all dissipated. Evaporating into an evanescent warmth he wished he could go back to in place of the cold void that now settled over his heart.

"He looks healthy," Feliciano was suddenly at his side, leaning past him to peer out the door curiously.

"Wha—What?" Lovino gulped.

"Gabriel."

No. That wasn't Gabriel. Lovino didn't know what it was. The woman Lovino knew to be Mrs. Rodriguez stood in the parking lot. She looked tired, drained, the color seeping from her skin and leaving it dismal, grey in the overcast. Beside her was neither a boy nor a man nor a human figure at all. A dark shadow whirled near Mrs. Rodriguez, clinging to her side. It was a vacuum, an abyss that seeped the light from the air, bending and refracting all light and color around it. Lovino had never felt so empty in his life. Lovino had never been seeped to the core.

"Feliciano," he said slowly. "What do you see?"

Feliciano was understandably confused. "What do you mean?"

"What—Gabriel, what is he doing?"

"Look for yourself."

"Please, Feli."

Feliciano scratched the back of his head, sending Lovino a worried glance, looking onto the scene as if he was missing something. "He's just with his mom." Feliciano shrugged. "Why?"

What was this? Apparitions and voids for children?

Lovino slowly backed into the apartment, pulling Feliciano with him and shutting the door. "Call Alfred."

"Lovino, seriously, what's going on?"

"That's not Gabriel." Lovino said, looking the boy full in the face. "I—We need to tell Alfred that the documents are forged."

Feliciano shook his head. "What do you mean that's not him? It looks just like him!"

"Just trust me, Feli. Please. Call. Alfred."

* * *

Lovino's thumbnail had been chewed to the bed, he now worked on the skin around it. Alfred was on speaker phone again.

"Like I said before," Alfred groaned from the other end, "the documents are legit. Feliciano's seen the kid, and unless your accusing them of having an identical twin sitting around, ready to delude suspicion, then your theory of the kid still being missing is wrong. Case closed."

"No!" Lovino yelled. Neither of them were listening to him. "Gabriel is dead, I know it. Whatever is out there pretending to be him—"

"Lovi, stop referring to him as an it." Feliciano sighed. He rubbed his temples, fatigue setting on his features. At first, he had seemed confused, then he looked to thoroughly enjoy Lovino's accusations—be it because he found them interesting or amusing, Lovino didn't know—but now, as the sun disappeared again, he just looked tired.

"It is an it! I—I don't know how to explain it. Listen, whatever it is isn't human. Trust me!"

"Feliciano, I told you to be careful on who you trusted," Alfred sighed. "Call me when you have something of meaning to discuss."

'Wait-!" Lovino didn't need to wait for the dial tone to know that Alfred had hung up. Feliciano grabbed his phone, cutting off the call with a sigh.

"Lovi," he said softly, "just let it go. I know you were set on him being dead, but he's not. I don't know what to tell you beyond that. Just let it go."

The fact that Feliciano didn't believe him made Lovino feel so angrily alone in his situation. He didn't know what was happening or how to even describe what was happening, but he knew that he had tried. He had tried because whatever was out there was a serious threat. He had risked his image of sanity to try and receive help in the issue, but he had been brushed aside by all parties. Scrubbing a hand down his face, Lovino stood, pacing the area.

What was he going to do? If everyone saw a child he couldn't do it harm. "Once more, Feli," he practically begged; "what did he look like?"

"He looked healthy." Feliciano said for the fourth time. "That's all."

"No cuts or bruises?"

Feliciano shook his head.

Fuck, what was happening. In the image he hadn't had any bruising on him, either. He looked a bit ill, but that could be expected of a  _Runaway Found Hitchhiking_. It wasn't right! He could still feel the pain and frozen ground, though it did feel a million miles away. He wished that he could ask the ghost what the answer was.

"Are there any farms you know of?" Lovino tried weakly. "Any that the Rodriguezes frequent?"

"What? Lovino what are you talking about?"

"Gabriel—he—he was being abused by his parents, right?"

"We can't know that for sure."

Lovino could. He had felt the yearning to go home despite the terror associated with it. Was that an important part to this puzzle?

Lovino snapped. "Your stories! Uh—fuck, does the bible have anything about ghosts?"

"Is that a trick question?" Feliciano asked.

"No. Like, evil spirts becoming soul-sucking-thingies. Anything about that?"

"Uh, I don't know. I guess we never covered that topic in Sunday school."

Lovino groaned, his thumb actively bleeding now. "Of course not. Okay, other angles. Internet? The internet could help us."

"Lovino!" Feliciano yelled after him as he stormed into his room, throwing around piles or clothes and trash and shit to try and find his laptop. Thankfully he had neglected it with its charger, so upon finding it he was able to bring it out to the living area and plug it in.

He looked up a series of things: demons, blackholes in religion, vengeful spirits. Some things hit the situation, other things were too fictitious even for what was happening, but nothing seemed to fit the chord. Lovino didn't feel comfortable with any of the answers. Had Gabriel's ghost morphed into something else? Was this some projection from the mother herself, guilty of killing her own son? What was happening?

He was really starting to think that to be the title of his memoir.

After a long while of feverous typing and searching and groaning, Feliciano calmed him down, putting a hand around his shoulder and peering at the computer screen. Lovino was too stressed to stiffen at the unwanted physical attention. "C'mon," he said gently, "let's get out of here."

"No," Lovino protested, "it's not safe out there."

Feliciano offered him a small smile. "It's no safer in here with you on this craze. And with no food? Gosh, Lovi, are you expecting me to starve to death? Because if that's your plan, congratulations. It is working splendidly. I'm twenty pounds lighter already."

Lovino rolled his eyes, but he couldn't find the humor. He couldn't find anything but the worry and the confusion.

"Here," he said, handing Feliciano his car keys. "Go pick something up to eat. I'll figure this all out."

"Come with me."

Lovino stood, grabbing his laptop and heading towards his room. "No, I have to do some more research."

Feliciano shut the front door behind him. Lovino relished in the silence.

"What the fuck is going on," he said aloud. Was he crazy, talking to specters in his head? "Why don't you just tell me where you are? Tell me who did it. I can't figure it out like this. What is that thing? Is it you?"

The idea of Gabriel becoming—or having always been—an evil spiirt had crossed Lovino's mind a few times now. All Lovino was asking for was trouble at this point.

There was no answer. Lovino wanted to scream.

His phone buzzed. A message from his manager.

Make that his ex-manager.

Everything was falling apart. Pushing his laptop aside, Lovino laid down, sprawling across his bed and staring up at the ceiling. He needed to get away from all this shit. The application to become a truck driver lie on his dresser, but he was sure he could find it online. It'd be quicker that way, and now that he didn't even have two weeks to fall back on.

He sighed, closing his eyes. He willed himself back to the farm, the cold, the feelings of being broken and alone, but none of them came. He couldn't see anything, couldn't feel anything. It was as if whatever this void was took away every bit of chance Lovino had at finding the kid. Solving the mystery to his murder.

* * *

Feliciano came back a bit later, a pizza on his hip. The apartment suddenly became encased by the smells of grease and garlic. He put the keys down onto the table, opening the box in front of Lovino. "Your favorite," he cooed.

Lovino sent him a tight-lipped smile. "Thanks."

"Find anything out?"

"Yeah," Lovino re-found the tab he had left a few moments ago. Reading over to make sure it was in the right spot, Lovino pushed his laptop towards Feliciano, something strange happening with his nerves as he waited for the boy's response. The worst thing that could happen would be Feliciano saying no. Or laughing at him. Lovino ignored those, though. Protecting his ego wouldn't work if he was going to get what he wanted from this.

Feliciano, plucking a piece of pizza from the box bent over to read the screen. His eyebrows knitted together in a confused manner. He slowly shook his head with a laugh, taking a bite. "What is this?"

"An application," Lovino said. "A trucking position. They're looking for a team of drivers. Two drivers per cab."

Feliciano stopped chewing, sending Lovino a strange look. "Lovi, are you asking me to run away with you?" he teased.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "I got fired and you might have local cops looking to put a bullet in your head; I thought it would be the best for the both of us."

Feliciano coughed. "Fired!"

Lovino chuckled darkly. "Yeah, I guess not showing up today was the last straw. Anyway, these guys pay so much per mile, so we'll be making a fuckton more than minimum." And maybe Lovino would be able to get away from the stress of being here. The last week had been enough to chase him out forever.

Feliciano took a long moment to answer, multiple bites of his pizza disappearing as he thought it over. "You're serious about this?"

Lovino nodded. "If you want to. Otherwise I'll just apply for a single position."

Feliciano laughed, nudging Lovino with his foot playfully. "Awe, you thought about me when you were choosing a new job?"

"If I left you here I would have to worry about you getting your stupid ass killed." He was only half-joking.

Feliciano shot a playful sneer at him. Pulling out his phone, he nodded. "Alright, then. I think I'll take you up on that!" he cooed.

Lovino ignored the feeling in his chest.

"What are you doing?"

"Quitting."

"Wait! Don't do that until we actually have the job!" Lovino advised hurriedly.

Feliciano puffed out his cheeks, balancing on his heels. "Too late. Better get on that application!"

Lovino groaned.

* * *

"I can't believe that it took you two tries to get pass your commercial license test!" Feliciano howled.

Lovino growled at him. "Shut up. You only passed the first time because they let you use your fucking book!"

Feliciano shrugged at him. "What can I say? I'm endearing."

"You're fucking annoying is what you are."

"Call it what you will," Feliciano sang, turning to send Lovino a wink, "but I know you love me."

"Is that what that was? I always thought it was disgust."

Feliciano just rolled his eyes.

* * *

"Do you have any questions?" the man asked. He was burly, a great belly on his figure. Lovino looked upon it with envy. This job would pay him to sit on his ass and get fat. He could taste the honey buns and apple pie already.

"Yeah," Feliciano said, "are you sure this schedule is right? It had us stopped for only four hours a day."

"That's what team shifts get," the man grumbled. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah," Feliciano said again, "our gas cards don't have any credentials aside from truck number. Are you sure that's right?"

"Yes," the man said, irritation popping through his tone. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah," Feliciano said  _again_ , "it says here that—"

"You know what," Lovino cut in, sending Feliciano a warning glare, "I'm sure we'll be able to figure it out."

"Good," the man groaned.

Feliciano sent him a pout. "Now how am I supposed to know whether or not we're covered for roadside assistance?"

"Fuck," Lovino sighed, "the one good question you fucking have."

* * *

The two climbed into the cab of their truck. The overlaying smell of leather and pine and freshly cleaned blankets filtered through the area. The seats were large and cushioned, a large cupholder sitting between them, a stick shift settled in from of it. The bed in the back was huge and Lovino was already ready to set up his mobile wifi box and laptop. Feliciano had brought a list of his CDs just in case their wifi wasn't working, and they both had ample amount of music between them saved on their phones.

Everything was looking up.

Lovino hadn't seen Gabriel—his ghost—at all since the last time in Feliciano's apartment. He hadn't seen the void, either, but could feel its presence every time he was in his old apartment. Feliciano and Lovino had taken the hoodie and police badge, hiding it in a storage shed Lovino had rented out, deciding to move out of his apartment (lease was a bitch as he had suspected, but Feliciano was right about one thing: he was endearing) and figure out what to do next after a few months of actively working. To Lovino's distaste, Alfred had sent Feliciano a new badge and new identity, but Lovino had made him promise not to use it unless absolutely necessary. Then again, to Feliciano's one brain cell that probably meant getting some chick's number.

Setting into the driver's seat Lovino ran his hands down the great steering wheel. It was double the size of any car he had any owned. It made a piece of him feel small, but the majority of him feel powerful. Their truck even came with one of those pull horns. He grinned, imaging the havoc he could raise with such power.

"Ready?" he asked.

Feliciano nodded at him with a smile. "I call dibs on the radio first."

Lovino laughed callously. "As if. Driver chooses the music. Save your show tunes for when I can sit in the back with my headphones on."

Feliciano whined at him, but finally agreed, quietly listing off all the annoying ass Broadway specials he was just  _so_  excited to play. Lovino pulled up his music streaming app, setting up the aux chord and setting the AC to full blast.

He was nervous backing out of the drive, he was nervous as Feliciano stumbled through reading a map (soon enough they just pulled up GPS), and he was nervous when he drove under his first bridge, but soon enough those nerves calmed and Lovino relaxed. Upon his head, flattening his hair and making his forehead sweat, was his newly beloved ball cap, a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose and a cup of coffee beside him.

And best of all, his best friend sat beside him in a similar manner, feet perched on the dash as he hummed along to the dings of Candy Crush or some other game Lovino had thought only suitable for old woman. He would talk when he found inspiration to do so—which one would think was hard, being stuck in a truck, but Feliciano was creative, unfortunately—and just play his games or read a gas station action when he didn't.

Everything really was looking up, Lovino decided, his hands strong on the wheel. They were off on their first adventure, a billion-million miles away from the confusion of Kansas.

Arizona would be normal.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Yay! Ludwig and Gilbert come in next chapter. I really MEANT to bring them in earlier, but I was having so much fun introducing things that I got carried away._

_Don't worry, we will be revisiting Gabe and the Void (tell me that wouldn't be the name of a good band. Go on. You can't? Exactly.). They tie in really nicely with the Arizona mystery as was suggested by Feliciano at the fast-food joint._

_Trivial fact: I was trying to figure out what genre this goes under now. Turns out my comedic romance is actually a cut-and-paste psychological horror/thriller; isn't that fun? I think it's safe to officially diagnose me with commitment issues~  
_

_Okay, quick shout out to_ **Syntax-N __** _on FFNET_ _. I despise how busy I am, because I am so fucking ready to sit down and read her story_ Hetafata _. I read the first chapter and everything was just so beautifully written and ohmegosh._

 _Yesterday she posted a one-shot to her universe, a pre-_ Hetafata _story called_  Midsummer Moon Brew, _which I was so excited to see (my exhausted ass ended up pulling up the chapter at work, reading as much as I could before I felt boss-man was gon' yell at me) and, boy, do I recommend it! It features magic!Gilbert, little!Ludwig, and a potion that changed colors a good, what, six times? If you're interested in her_ Hetafata _story, but are a little discouraged by it's length, definitely fall in love with this one shot so that you can go ahead and read it with me xD Let's all fan together, guys._


	10. Dix

Her hair was long, dead ends being meticulously studied between slender fingers. She groaned, letting her locks fall once more. "Those fuckers," she mumbled to herself, her eyes lifting just-enough to see the stacks of boxes poorly organized before her. The check-in list in her other hand would be hell to get through tonight. Her boss had warned her that there was a new driver coming, but she hadn't expected such idiots.

Grabbing a pen, looking for a will to not just walk out (and scarcely finding it, at that), she began.

The light ding above the door chimed to life. She didn't turn to see who it was. If they wanted her attention they would clear their throat or ask a question; if they didn't do either of those things they obviously didn't care enough for a distraction to be worth it.

"Natalie," a sweet voice sounded behind her. She stopped dead in her tracks, the blue ball-tip pen hesitating across the page. Turning slowly, she saw a sweet woman with chin-length hair and warm eyes. Her smile didn't say anything but "I love you," as it always did.

"I—I—" Natalie stammered, quick steps taking her around the counter, fumbling over estranged boxes, before wrapping the well-built woman into a desperate hug. "I thought you were dead!"

She was in danger, but she didn't know it. She was too happy embracing the costume of her dead sister.

Lovino started awake, that same feeling of emptiness filling his chest, draining his body. He was expected to have nightmares, sure, but nightmares that felt so real? He pushed the feeling aside, the truck grumbling beneath him lullingly, some annoying pop-turned-broadway song flittering through the speakers, Feliciano aggressively mumble-singing along from the wheel.

Turning his pillow over and cursing the book that jabbed him in the palm, Lovino stuffed his face into the pillow and willed himself back to sleep.

* * *

The whole world broke into chaos.

"Fuck a duck. Fuck a duck. Fuck a row of fucking fucker ducks!" Lovino prayed under his breath. His hands clung to the wheel for dear life, the whole world in front of him a white, foggy sheet of hail and pounding rain. They had been passing through pockets of hail and rain ever since they left New Mexico, but it hadn't gotten this bad until now. The road was invisible beyond the trembling panes of class, and Lovino's whole body was chilled.

"What are you doing?" Feliciano demanded as he turned on his turn signal.

"I'm pulling off the fucking road," his voice was too panicked, but, in this situation, any sane person'S would.

Of course, Feliciano was calm. That shit. "No! We only get four hours off the road a day, we are  _not_  spending it on the side of the highway in the cab!"

Lovino had quickly learned, in their two and a half days of driving, that Feliciano was not keen on the trucking part of being a truck driver. After the first day, he had grown anxious. His puzzle games no longer satisfied him, he would sing too loud, stick his head out the window, saying it was "to feel less dead," and when it came time for him to just relax, take a nap, watch a movie or read one of the books in a messy stack-he seemed to think that gas-station action novels were going to be the next currency, because he never gave up an opportunity to purchase one—he would complain about being too bored to concentrate. The times when he was happy were the moments when they stopped. He would talk to everyone in a thirty mile radius if Lovino would let him off to run as far. Lovino would have to treat him like a kid with ADHD, reminding him that he had to shower, berate him for spending too much time in the parking lots talking to bikers and truckers and woman with purse-size dogs.

Lovino ignored him as he slowly took his foot off the gas, easing sideways, slow, easy, the roads wet and the truck being bigger than anything Lovino had handled before. His prayer was low on his breath. Poor birds.

They made it. Lovino parked.

Feliciano, like the idiot he was, angrily threw his door open. Cold rain pounded into the cab. "What the fuck are you doing?" Lovino demanded.

Feliciano slammed his door shut. Lovino couldn't see him, the storm too strong. Ever curse he had ever used or heard of was on his lips as he opened his own door. He started when he saw Feliciano was right outside his door.

"Get out." Feliciano screamed over the winds. "If you're too scared to drive, then I will."

Lovino had also learned, though this was over the course of the year they had spent as friends, that Feliciano took unnecessary risks.

"No." Lovino decided. "With the winds and hail we could end up blowing the windshield!"

Feliciano either didn't hear him or didn't care—in their situation it could have very well been both—and was already climbing into Lovino's seat despite Lovino having not moved. He was soaked, his hair dripping into his eyes and sticking to the sides of his cheeks, his t-shirt and shorts pasted against his figure. He almost even looked pissed off, but Lovino was sure it was the fact that they hadn't taken a break off the road for over twelve hours that had him so uptight.

"Move or I'm sitting on you," he promised grumpily. Lovino tried to push him off, back into the rain that still pounded them thanks to the open door, but the kid's vice grip against the wheel and set footing in front of the pedals kept him firm. The truck roared to life before Lovino was even half-off his seat.

"Fucking brat," Lovino growled as the weathered forces slapped him around. He tried to cover his ears with his shirt, holding onto his ball cap at the same time, as he Chinese fire drill'd it around the truck. Opening the passengers door he made it a point to glare at Feliciano. "You're a fucking bastard, an idiot, and a fucking—"

"Get in or I'm leaving you behind," Feliciano snapped.

Even as Feliciano was pulling back onto the road, Lovino grasped the handle beside his head for dear life. His heart pounded in his throat. They could hydro-plane and end up in a ditch, flipped over and dead. The windows could be blown out, another driver that was as idiotic as Feliciano could crash into them, they could end up ramming into the structure of a bridge, flight-for-life getting them to a hospital to die here—if they even made it! No helicopter would be send in this fucking storm!

"you're going too fast!" Lovino screamed.

"I'm only going forty."

"The roads are wet! You have to go slower! Slow down! Watch out, I think there might be another car in front of us! Your windshield wipers are going too fast. Are your dims or brights on because it's not supposed to be bright!"

"Lovi! Stop shotgun driving and calm down!"

Feliciano just stared forward, his whole body calm against the forces against him. When it seemed that he lost control of the truck, he serenely turned to wheel no more than a centimeter, eyes seemingly concentrated beyond the storm that blinded their screen. Aside from being hunched a bit more forward than usual—though that could be because he hadn't fixed the seat forward, Lovino being taller than him—he acted as if he was driving a regular road.

Slowly, the storm seemed to light up. It was barely, far from the light drizzle Lovino  _might_  have been comfortable with, and Lovino through the falling ice could see the grand neon lights of an upcoming exit.

"Feliciano, pull over here!" he demanded. "We'll find a diner or something and spend our break there. Just fucking pull over!"

"No, we can get father than this!" Feliciano pushed back. Lovino watched desperately as the exit passed.

"I fucking hate you!" Lovino yelled, knowing full well the volume was too much for the cab but not giving three fucking shits.

"Go throw your tantrum in the back," Feliciano shot back.

"Another exit's coming up, stop there!" f

"Just calm down."

"Slow down!"

"Shut up!"

He could have grabbed the steering wheel in his paroxysm, but he held back, body too close to the ruthlessness of the storm. The wipers didn't help his nerves. They screeched and squeaked, each way a different tone, the speed seeming to pick up the more Lovino stared at them. At this point they were just a distraction to be had  _before_  the rain had a chance to disturb and hit.

Suddenly, the pocket they had found themselves in let up. It was like a bipolar switch. One minute everything was hell, the next it was calm and hardly any rain fell. Lovino still sat glued to the back of his chair, his grip tight around the handle, his heart pounding and breath scattered.

Feliciano had been calm, but now as he sat back he looked lazily content. "Wow!" he cooed.

Lovino just tried to catch his breath. "You. You are the worst."

Feliciano turned to him, a stupid grin on his face. The thrill seemed to take away his attitude, or perhaps it was the accomplishment. "It's flattering to see I can take your breath so easily," he joked with a wink.

Lovino groaned, rolling his eyes and slowly allowing his tense muscles to calm. "I fucking hate you, bastard. So you're driving?"

"Yeah, you can go do something else." Feliciano granted him, turning back to the road. "I'm opening the window, though."

Of course, he was opening the window. Lovino just sighed, awkwardly climbing over the middle console, complete with empty coffee cups and to-go boxes, setting his ball cap onto said console once he got over, and falling towards his laptop.

There was a new Dane Cook special on Netflix, and fuck-a-duck if he wasn't preparing to watch it.

* * *

He must have fallen asleep, because one minute a balding Dane Cook was making an almost-bad joke (Lovino was sour about the fact that he had left his peek behind with his gym membership) and the next Lovino was waking up, freezing his ass off in a quiet truck. No rumbling beneath him, no warm air spilling out above him. Groaning he forced himself into a sitting position. Beyond the panes of glass he could see that it was early in the morning. The sky was pink, clouds of orange tittering across the way, threatening the world with the early sun they hid.

Feliciano was no where to be found, but his door was left ajar, letting the cool air in. Lovino climbed over the console, grumbling to whole way as he made his way out.

The whole world around him was a mixture of morning-after rain, wet pavement, and rolling engines of trucks that had taken refuge in this parking lot as well. There was a small rest area that Lovino quickly pinned out, but he doubted it was anything more than a restroom and a shower.

Falling to the ground, making sure not to hit the puddle Feliciano had parked over, Lovino walked across the black cement—darker than usual, he was sure, due to the puddles and moisture. Aside from the couple trucks that joined them, a U-Haul, and a few straggled cars, there was a group of yellow and black construction vehicles surrounding a large lump of dirt right to the side of the flooding grass and trees.

Lovino could see Feliciano at the top of said pile of dirt, and all he could do at this point was shake his head. Walking over to the pile, Lovino pointed his voice to the sky.

"You're going to get in trouble," he warned. "You better come down."

Feliciano smiled down at him. "Come up here and look at the view!"

Lovino shook his head, crossing his arms, cold. "Yeah right. I'm not looking to get all muddy. Come back to the truck so we can find somewhere to get food."

"Only if you come up here first!" Lovino opened his mouth to deny, but Feliciano cut him off. "Please?"

He was a child. Lovino had decided to bring a literal child along with him. Groaning, Lovino looked around quickly, making sure none of the construction workers were around. When they had worked on the bridge near Lovino's old job, the construction workers had camped out in RVs, but as far as Lovino could now see there was neither a yellow-coated team nor camping vehicle. Defeated, Lovino began to climb.

The pile was made of mostly wet dirt and broken concrete. Lovino's feet slipped and slid, making it so he had to dirty his hands to claw up the mountain. Feliciano grabbed at his arms when he was close enough, and together they sat at the top.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Feliciano asked.

Lovino blew up his cheeks. It was the same view from the parking lot, only now slightly—oh, ever so slightly—at a different altitude. He didn't say anything mean, though. Feliciano seemed to truly believe that his discovery was ground breaking, and that some artistic masterpiece, never seen before, was revealing itself to them.

He decided quietly that he would let the kid keep his keenness and sighed. "Yeah." Feliciano grinned over at him like the whole world was just fucking perfect. Lovino rolled his eyes. "Can we go get something to eat now?"

"Beat you to the truck!"

"Hey! Calm down! This isn't fair, my bones are older than yours!"

Felicaino turned with pip, already on the pavement and threw him a kiss. "A practical cripple atop a pile of dirt. How sad."

Lovino ignored his racing pulse as he descended the mountain with a growl. "You're a little bitch, you know that?" he screamed across the parking lot, picking up his pace to try and catch up with the kid.

* * *

They weren't too far away from their destination now, seeing as Feliciano had driven through the rest of the early morning. He was insistent to promise that he had only stopped for a quarter of an hour, as if it was Lovino that would get mad if the break had been wasted (then again, he wasn't sure that 15 minutes on a pile of dirt was a useful way to use the time), and so that meant that they could eat in vs rushing out with white Styrofoam boxes to add to their pile.

They found a diner right off an exit, the parking lot big enough for Lovino to pull in and park. Feliciano was out the door before the power was cut. Lovino followed behind.

"Alright," he called after the kid. "We eat and then we get straight to the location. They want us there by ten, and it looks like we're already falling behind."

"Okay." Lovino was pretty sure that Feliciano hadn't even heard him, agree to appease.

The diner was a kindly established place. Booths lined the windows with a few scattered tables in the center of the one-room dining area. A bar sat along the far side of the wall with an assortment of beverages, but there was no bar keep at this time in the morning. Feliciano bounded to a window booth.

A waitress came to meet them, a smile on her older features, though it was both forced and tired. Lovino made a point to give her a kind smile, sympathetic to her situation. Feliciano was sympathetic in another way, his lips already parted and words spilling out. Lovino would always wonder whether or not he knew that not  _everyone_  wanted to be talked to death.

"We've been driving for hours, but I'm sure you would much rather that to standing on your feet all day—" Feliciano started his episode of sharing-too-much-information with the waitress. Lovino shuffled into the bench, sticking his nose into the menu, resting his chin on his palm. Somewhere along Lovino choosing to order the breakfast skillet and deciding to take his coffee black, Feliciano  _somehow_  had the waitress in a good mood and started swinging his feet to purposefully kick Lovino, trying to get him to join in the conversation.

Lovino attempted something, another smile and a nod. He didn't speak, though. He left that to Feliciano. Somewhere in him he wanted to snap at Feliciano and tell him that they didn't have all day, but he didn't. He was enjoying this. Feliciano wasn't complaining about anything, and he looked genuinely happy. It was almost a sad revelation that Lovino made then, noting that no one person would ever be enough for the kid. He belonged to everybody else, in a sense. They kept him…well, Lovino didn't know. He just knew that Feliciano would never be something exclusive.

Bad feelings were brushed aside as the waitress, knowingly on the clock, took their orders and wobbled down the isle to place it.

As they waited for their food, Feliciano talked. And talked. And talked. Lovino watched him, trying to study his features and catch on to what had him in such a talkative mood, but the kid wouldn't let on.

"Feli," he said. Feliciano immediately stopped talking, something strange about the way he did it. Lovino shook his head, brushing that aside, as well. "You're not talking in codes again, are you?"

"I—No," he giggled.

Lovino squinted his eyes at him. "Because I don't speak in codes. If you want me to catch something secret because we're in a situation where you can't speak freely, then we need a  _known_ —as in discussed—word or something. And, if you're wanting to tell me something but," Lovino knew the sarcastic-bitch-confused face he made could be taken as mean, but he hadn't had his coffee yet, "don't want to tell me, then, I don't know, don't or do. We're not in middle school, and we're going to be together a lot now. So, honesty or secrecy, please choose one."

"Which one do you choose?"

"What?"

"Are you honest or secretive with me?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Surprisingly, I'm an open fucking book, idiot." Feliciano laughed. Lovino took that as a sign that Feliciano didn't believe him, but that was besides the point. "Do you understand me?" Lovino asked.

"Yeah. So what do you want our sign to be? I think it should be a motion instead of a word."

"What if you want to go on one of your texting codes, or are forced to do it over the phone?"

Feliciano nodded. "You're right. So, a word that is inconspicuous enough to be used in any given situation."

The waitress came with their food, setting it down carefully. Feliciano cooed at her, Lovino offered her yet another smile.

Feliciano lightly blew at his coffee. Behind him movement came in. Lovino hardly noticed it, two or three people, he was too busy focusing on the food in front of him. "Yeah, but it can't be something that you'd use in a conversation on accident."

"Caterpillar."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "No, bastard."

"Jamba Juice."

"Be fucking serious," Lovino sighed.

Feliciano laughed, rolling a fork over his omelet. "Okay, then what do you think?"

Lovino plopped a steaming potato onto his tongue, breathing outwardly to fight off the heat in his mouth. Feliciano laughed again (he sure was chipper today) and Lovino half-heartedly glared at him. Swallowing, he mused through an answer. "How about: listen up, idiot. Something obvious."

"Oh, yes, I will just tell you to open your ears." Feliciano said sarcastically.

Lovino smiled and shook his head. "Whatever, bastard, just think on it. Continue on with your blabbing."

"I do not  _blab_!"

"Mhmm."

"Just because you're not listening doesn't mean what I'm trying to share isn't important!"

"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten. What was that you were saying about that bumper sticker a few minutes ago?"

Feliciano turned up his chin, taking a dramatic bite of his own food. "Don't  _you_  want to know?"

Actually, no, and he was about to continue his teasing when he felt a shiver crawl down his spin. Turning around, he saw two people at the bar that had been empty when they had come in. It must have been the people that came in earlier. Lovino looked them over, two blonds—one extremely so—were sitting at two stools, hunched together as if they were discussing something important. They weren't looking in their direction—they didn't even seem to notice him and Lovino—and so Lovino had no clue why he suddenly was so aware of their presence.

"What's wrong?" Feliciano asked.

Lovino shook his head. "Nothing," he said slowly. "Just, let's hurry. We've gotta get going soon."

* * *

They were a bit later than they had expected to be. Actually, they were a lot later. By a couple hours. Lovino was practically screaming, worry bubbling through his chest.

"Lovino, it's not my fault that today was collision central day!" Feliciano screamed back at him. "So stop shouting at me!"

"I'm not shouting at you!" he shouted at Feliciano.

Feliciano hit his hand on the wheel. "Then stop shouting all together, because I'm your only audience!"

Lovino glared at him, a groan escaping, taking the air from his last bout of words. "Whatever, fucker," he muttered under his breath. Feliciano sent him an angry look before turning back to the road (he had demanded that he take the wheel after they had come up on their second detour being cut-off, as Lovino apparently "didn't take traffic stress well;" whatever the fuck that meant).

Their location had been on the outskirts on the far-end of Arizona, so they had to pass through bustling cities before they could get to it. That meant a bunch of idiots that didn't know how to drive, and were on a mission to  _prove_  it, as they kept fucking crashing into things. And when one was in a truck the size of theirs, it cut out the possibilities of taking the detours that would have them on gravel roads or passing beneath low-set rural bridges. So, limited options made them late, and Lovino was pissed about it.

Crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently, Lovino watched the highway zip by. Feliciano was pushing the speed limit as much as he could (the truck being…well, being a fucking truck), and he would appreciate that later. Right now he didn't care because this was their first job and they were already fucking up.

Finally, their exit came up.

Falling into the small town, Feliciano was able to quickly pinpoint their location—a gas station, from the looks of it—and pull in. Lovino jumped from the cab as quickly as possible, his clipboard in his hand. He rushed into the building.

It was air conditioned, and an older woman with short strawberry hair greeted him. He fitted his cap a bit better. "Ma'am," he started off, a bit rushed. "I must apologize for our lateness. There were a lot of detours."

"Oh, you're the new driver?" she asked scrupulously.

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded, glancing down at her watch. "Alright, well, follow me and I'll show you the back and where I want everything."

Lovino nodded, fitting his cap again. She quickly ran Lovino through the jist of things. He nodded and agreed, taking mental notes of everything she said. It seemed that she had bought a bunch of product from the Kansas company and was planning to start a new display, as a good chunk of the side corner of the store was blank.

"Alright, I understand," Lovino agreed. She nodded, checking her watch again.

"I'm going to be leaving you with one of my employees as my shift is up here soon, but she should be able to walk you through anything you don't understand. If not, she has my number."

Lovino nodded. "We'll get started right away."

"Thank you."

Lovino went out, showed Feliciano where to park, and quickly ran through the game plan. Feliciano was quick to take on the task, understanding easily what he was told. Lovino, armed with a dolly and his trusty clipboard, rolled in the first round of boxes.

He tripped forward when he came in through the back and saw  _her_. Long blond hair shaping a pointed face that looked more irritated than it did board. The top box of his pile tumbled to the ground.

"Fuck," Lovino growled, snapping out of his trance. The girl looked up at him. She shook her head, and Lovino could practically hear her voice:

 _What an idiot_.

His heart race was much higher than it should have been. There were probably a million and a half girls that looked similar to her.

Still, he had to make sure.

Placing his box back onto the stack he straightened. She had started away.

"Natalie?"

She stopped and turned. "Yeah?"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Have you guys ever been so exhausted that you couldn't move. Not like, oh my so tired let's sleep, but like, your whole body is stiff and even moving your tongue causes the bottom of your mouth to hurt? Idk, maybe it's just me. Sorry for this chapter being out so late, I've been super busy flirting with strangers (my little sister had a b-day party at some trampoline park, and the workers were hot af, and then this morning I was on a plane at 6 am and this hottie sat next to me so_ of course _I flirted my ass off because I'm trash). Vacay has started, so I will be trying to write as much as possible between hanging out with old friends, the ocean, and my sister. Sorry if this chapter reads weird, I've prolly gotten 5 hours of sleep in the last 72 hours and am dying._

_I also went to the Opera for the first time today. The plot was atrocious, but the performance was amazing. I swear, I either really truly don't get romance or people are fucking overreacting. So your lover is in hell for ever. Coolio. Oh, you have a chance to revive them and have uno rule to follow. Lookie there, you broke the rule. The fuck? Why are people so happy that this character got a happy ending? HE DELIBERATELY BROKE THE RULE AND OBVIOUSLY DIDN'T LEARN HIS LESSON?_

_Make your predictions as to what is happening! I love seeing what you guys are thinking!_


	11. Onze

Lovino's heart palpitated as he looked upon her. What the fuck was happening? He had never met her. Fuck, he rarely ever left Kansas before now! And now? And now here he stood a handful of hours late for his first job a day and a half after dreaming about this girl? About dreaming about her being in danger? What the fuck did it mean?

"Yes?" she asked again, irritation in her voice. "Do I know you, or something?"

What was he supposed to say! Fuck, why did he never know what to say! He needed Feliciano, but of course then he would have to explain the situation to the kid and risk getting looked at like he was crazy again. What to do? What to do?

"Uhm, no, your co-worker in there told me that," he swallowed, scratching the back of his neck, "you'd be the one taking over. I was wondering where you wanted these."

She nodded, and Lovino knew that when she turned around she rolled her eyes away from him. "Follow me," she ordered.

Lovino followed behind her quietly, attempting to find a way to say something. In the end he failed. Putting his stack of boxes down he returned to the truck. Feliciano jumped from the back, landing with a bounce and a smile beside the ramp. "Alrighty!" he chirped, holding up his own clipboard. "Everything is checked-in on our end. Have her sign a copy of yours once it's all in and then we can go. We should do something in Arizona before we leave. I'll look up a museum if you want. Art or history?"

"Feli, I think that we're going to have to stick around here a little longer."

"Stay here?"

Lovino shook his head, wheeling his dolly up the ramp before stopping at the top and crouching to whisper. "I think that girl is in danger."

"What!" Feliciano practically yelled. Lovino hit him in the shoulder. "How?"

"I don't know, I just—a gut feeling alright? I think that something's going to happen tonight."

Feliciano shook his head. "Is this like that Gabriel thing, Lovi? Because I'm not sure if we can count on your gut."

"Just trust me, alright. We'll stick around for the night, and if nothing happens I'll take you to any fucking museum or whatever in the country, alright?"

"Any?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, any."

"Okay, but  _you_  gotta call the boss."

Fuck, Lovino would have to find some reason to explain them not continuing to their next location right away. He checked his pockets quickly. Jumping from the truck he ran to the cab, digging through his shit before he finally found it. Flipping his army knife open, he walked to the back of the truck, setting a private hope that there were no cameras pointing toward the building, holding his breath before stabbing a tire. It popped and hissed. He was almost afraid that it was going to explode. Stepping away quickly he closed the knife and stuffed it in his pocket.

Coming back around the truck he found Feliciano filling the dolly. Feliciano sent him a smile. "Figure it out?"

"Uh, no. I will though. I'll call him after we're done."

Feliciano nodded, tipping his pile back enough to catch the wheels before starting down. "Alright, well let's hurry with this so we can do something before your stake-out. I really don't want to be stuck in this parking lot all night  _and_  all day."

"Yeah, sounds good," Lovino muttered at him.

They quickly finished, Feliciano being much quicker to drop off and come back than Lovino. The girl seemed to be growing more and more angry the more they dropped things off, and Lovino had a suspicion that they (read: Feliciano) weren't (wasn't) doing it right. Finishing up and getting her to sign, the two headed back out.

Feliciano bounded out of the back door. He held his keys out, blabbering at Lovino, telling him to pull up a GPS so that they could find something to do before the night. Lovino pulled out his phone, playing the part, and climbed into shot-gun as the truck growled to life. Feliciano took off.

"What's that?" Lovino asked. Feliciano was forced to slow down.

"I don't know, something's weird. Are the rest of the boxes stacked all on one side?"

"No. I was just in there. They're piled toward the back unless you fucked with them."

"Weird." Feliciano pulled into the truck parking area before killing the engine and getting out. Lovino's pulse raced again. When Feliciano appeared, he was practically glaring at him.

"Oh no," the kid drawled, no actual worry in his voice. "Looks like we have a flat tire."

Lovino sent him an innocent half-smile. "Shit, that sucks. Looks like I'm going to have to call the boss. Hope we do get road side assistance because—"

Before he was even done talking Feliciano had slammed his door shut and started walking away from the truck. Lovino sighed. Sure, Feliciano would throw a tantrum, but in the end, it would be worth it. Well, if keeping some poor girl out of imagined danger fell upon the 'worth it' line. Lovino groaned, pounding in his boss's number. He really hoped that he was right.

"Hello?" a man answered.

"Hi, is Mr. Buraginsuki in?"

"No, not right now. Can I take a message?"

"Yeah, I'm a driver for truck 3-0-4-2. We made it to our first location, but it seems like we have a flat tire and are stopped for right now."

"Okay," the man sighed, "can you repeat your truck number again?"

"3-0-4-2."

"And your name?"

"Lovino Gaspari."

"Driver ID?"

"6-6-2-5-4-3."

"Partner and his ID."

"Feliciano Varmint, and, uh," Lovino dug through the glovebox, trying to find the kid's number. It took him a long minute, but he found it. "6-6-2-4-4-7."

"Thank you. What is your current location?"

Lovino quickly listed off the address. The man promised to put in the report, saying that they were likely not going to be helped until Monday. Lovino chewed at his nail. Feliciano would hate that, but there was nothing they could do about it. If they refused to send someone out today, Friday, then it was likely that they weren't going to send someone over the weekend. Lovino felt bad. Still, he and Feliciano could find something to do. Surly. Maybe. Fuck. The kid was probably going to fill his free time by pouting or by  _murdering_  him.

Still, that gave Lovino ample opportunity to make sure this chick wasn't going to die. That always was a good feeling.

Lovino clicked off the call and made his way out of the cab. Feliciano was stalking toward the store but seemed to think better of it and slouched against the Designated Smoking sign. Lovino stole up to him.

"They said that we could be here until Monday."

Feliciano didn't say anything. Just pulled out his phone. Lovino sighed. At least he wasn't being murdered.

* * *

This fucking silent treatment was killing him. At first it was the best thing in the world. Lovino could concentrate on something for more than twenty minutes without being interrupted by boisterous singing or talking or humming or  _noise_ , but at the same time he could very well see Feliciano, and everything felt out of place and every time he asked the kid something he was directly ignored. It wasn't the  _maybe he didn't hear me_  type of ignored. It was the  _he very well heard me and is a fucking fucker that won't look up from his god damn book and I'm going to fucking set that shit on fire if he doesn't tell me what he wants to eat in the next five seconds_ type of ignored.

The day had fallen into an early evening. Lovino groaned, leaning against the truck's nose with his arms crossed. It hummed beneath him, the power turned on to charge their shit and run the AC. It was still hot out, despite the sun retreating away. Lovino swiped at his forehead. Hopefully their next order would take them to Alaska or Canada. He was sick of the heat.

He had been watching the store front for any strange activity for a while now. There was none. Cars came in and out, fueling up; a few trucks parked beside their own. Some for only a second, others looked to be parked for the night. One-driver shifts that were forced to take eight hours break vs four. He sighed, the breathing movements of another truck coming to park stirring the warm air.

The yawning of the shotgun door creaked into the air. Lovino looked back. Feliciano came out.

"Hey," Lovino tried. At least he was  _graced_  with a look this time. Rolling his eyes Lovino kicked off the truck. "Keep watch for the front. If you see a chick with big boobs and blond hair come get me." He watched Feliciano, ready for him to ask a question or perhaps even say no, but the kid just took place on the nose and continued with his book.

He climbed into the cab.

A while later he came back out. The sun fell below the horizon now and it was much darker. Feliciano was no where to be found, and he discovered that he wasn't surprised. "Asshole," Lovino muttered under his breath, stuffing his phone into his pocket before starting towards the store. Entering he found Feliciano. He leaned over the counter at the girl Natalie. He smiled and flirted, and all Lovino could do was aggressively roll his eyes.

Finding a quick bag of chips Lovino pushed Feliciano aside and threw them on the counter.

"Will that be all?" Natalie asked, annoyed. Annoyed because she was sick of Feliciano, or annoyed because she hadn't become sick of him yet, he didn't know.

"Yeah, sure," Lovino muttered. He refused to look at Feliciano, though he wasn't sure his efforts were appreciated, as Feliciano was surly refusing to look at him. Paying quickly, he walked out of the store.

It was then that he caught the two men in the parking lot. They seemed to be watching the storefront. Ignoring the feeling that now washed through his chest, Lovino opened his chips. It wasn't until he was at his truck that he turned his attention back to the pair. Curious, bored, on-edge—but for a woman, neither of these two were her, and neither of them had the same feeling that she did, so he wasn't sure why—he looked closer. That's when he realized that he had seen the pair before. Not because they were anything special, but because they were two blonds, one practically (actually?) albino.

He hid behind the nose of his truck, forgetting his snack.

So what? People ended up in the same place all the time. "Small world," was a saying for a fucking reason. Perhaps they were truckers as well. Perhaps they were just driving through Arizona. Why did it matter so much?

Well, because his gut told him it mattered and if that wasn't the biggest fucking cop-out to care then he didn't know what was. First he had been suspcious at the diner—was suspicion the right word? What the fuck did it matter? Right now was not the time to wonder whether he had the right word to what he was  _feeling_. Fuck, now they were here as he was waiting for a dead-girl walking to stride into the store. Feliciano was in the store. Was he in danger? Fuck.

As if on cue, Feliciano walked out of the store. Lovino watched him walk across the way, dark skies making his light hair almost from the distance. Lovino could see through the windows that the Natalie girl had taken to her phone. She wasn't looking at her hair, so it was different, but maybe he had caused a difference, or maybe whatever was going to happen wasn't even going to happen tonight; or maybe not at all. Lovino hated this game. Hated it!

Feliciano was at his side again.

"Feli," Lovino said, his words too quick for comfort, "listen I'm sorry about the whole having to stay here thing and whatever but you've really gotta listen to me right now. I hate to do this to you but if you could stay in the cab that would be better and—"

"No," Feliciano said. "I'm sick and tired of being here already. I'm not spending all my time in the cab!"

Well at least he was talking. "No, listen. There a couple of guys over there and I think that they might be dangerous."

"Over where?"

Lovino pointed them out. "I saw them at the diner that we had breakfast at and—"

"Oh, your gut told you that they were dangerous?" Feliciano said, turning to him with understanding written all over his features.

Lovino sighed in relief. "Yeah, something like that."

Feliciano nodded. "Thank you for telling me, Lovi."

And then he fucking started to fucking walk toward the fucking pair of blonds. "Yo," Lovino snapped, "where are you going?"

"Hiiyas!" Feliciano yelled, waving his arm back and forth. It looked like he had interrupted the two's start in walking away. Lovino was quick to catch the kid, pulling him back.

"What the fuck are you doing, idiot?"

Feliciano pulled his arm free. Before Lovino knew it they were stopped, then walking, then Feliciano was snapping something at him, and then they were before the pair and he hated everything in his whole fucking life because right now he was standing in a fucking parking lot waiting for something of a probable murder as he went to go confront probable murderers with a flat fucking tire and no way to get out.

"Hi," Feliciano said as they sat in front of the pair. Up close Lovino could see their strong features. The taller of the two set them with a concentrated stare, the other, the paler and shorter, almost grinned at them. Lovino didn't feel comfortable at all.

"Hi," said the paler of the two.

"My friend here is really nervous of you two for some reason. Are you guys going to murder that girl in there?"

The smile quickly faded from the pale man's features. The taller one's stare widened, almost frightened. " _What_?" The taller one demanded.

Feliciano seemed to notice the sudden change. No longer where they standing in front of random strangers. There was something going on. But what? What? "I—it's just a joke," Feliciano giggled. "Sorry, we—we saw you guys at the diner we had breakfast at?" Feliciano turned to Lovino, looking at him as if he had the answer that he was seeking. He didn't. What even was the question at this point?

"Oh, really?" the pale one asked.

"Small world," Lovino said with a glare, stuffing his hands in his pockets and striding forward. He wasn't scared of these two. Then what the fuck was he? Something surged through him that told him that these two were hiding something. He didn't like that. Everyone was hiding something, though, so why were these fucks' secret important? Did it have something to do with this girl or with Feliciano or with Gabriel or the fucking void? Fuck, he had tried leaving all this shit behind in Kansas.

"Yes," the taller of the two said. He seemed to be taking on the suspicious role of his own pair. "Where are you two headed?"

"Nowhere," Lovino said, shrugging. He couldn't calm his pulse. Was this fear? Was he scared? "We're here for the rest of the night, just started our eight." He sighed. "I'll probably be up all night with the amount of caffeine I've consumed over the last hour. Whoops."

He could feel Feliciano's eyes on him for just a moment. The kid's nature must have finally took over. "And I just got done sleeping so I'm sure I'll be keeping him company. Are you guys sticking around?"

The tall blond scrutinized Feliciano with a blue gaze. His lips were set, tight, and Feliciano only responded with a warm gaze. "No," he finally said. His pause caused Lovino's skin to crawl.

Why was he getting angry? "Well then we'll let you get going." Lovino practically snapped. Fuck, he needed to calm his fucking heart and push down this irritation—or figure out why he was fucking feeling it.

"Yeah," the pale one said. "Maybe we'll see you guys around sometime. We're actually staying in a motel down the way." The tall one shot his partner a hurried glance. Lovino recognized it; the shock and irritation caused by something unplanned. What were these two hiding? Lovino stuffed his hands until it felt like his pants were going to slide down his hips.  _Calm down._

Lovino smiled at them. It felt so unnatural. "Yeah, maybe we will." He turned in the next moment, Feliciano finishing out their farewells before joining him.

"You were right," Feliciano decided quietly.

"I know."

He paused. "So, you really think this girl is in danger."

He really wished that he didn't. "I'm positive."

* * *

Feliciano climbed into the cab. He handed Lovino a can of cold coffee. "Thanks," Lovino sighed. It was so early in the morning, and he was really starting to feel it. The adrenaline of the encounter had rubbed off, and now it was just him and Feliciano. He knew that Felicaino was getting tired. No longer did he try to keep Lovino up with shallow conversation. Music and coffee. Lovino sighed, running a hand through his hair as he cracked the can open, using his leg to balance it. No one had been in the gas station, beside Feliciano for their coffee runs, in the last hour. Natalie's shift was coming to an end, Feliciano dutifully told him, sitting back.

"Do you think she'll be in danger when she leaves."

"I—I don't know. We could have changed something."

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head. He was too tired for this shit. "Well, I—my gut—I don't know. It was here that she was in danger. But it was someone that was posing the threat. So maybe? It's not like we can follow her. We can't even call the cops, because there's no proof that she is in danger."

"You could try explaining the situation to her."

Lovino laughed. "I'd sound like a psychopath. Even you think I'm crazy." Feliciano's awkward giggle confirmed it. Lovino sighed a bit deeper, sinking into his chair. "Exactly."

"It's not that I think that your crazy. It's just that I don't exactly understand."

"Same."

"But maybe if you-" he cut himself off. Lovino perked up, looking out the window intently.

"What is it?"

"The girl. The—there!"

Lovino strained, but through the darkness he couldn't see anything. "What? Where?"

"Walking in."

"Fuck, I was fucking fuck!" He growled, his heart being left behind in the cab as he tore the door open and jumped out.

"Lovino!"

He closed the door and started in a dead sprint. Fuck, its either Feliciano was being a fucking dick or there was a reason he couldn't see the woman in the darkness. He was opening the door to the store just as Natalie was making her way around the corner.

There  _it_  stood.

"Get away!" Lovino screamed, coming forward. It seeped away the florescent light of the gas station. The color, the warmth, the everything that wasn't it.

Natalie stepped back, shocked.

Lovino was in between her and the void now. "That's not your sister," he said quickly. "I'm sorry."

He could feel her hands on his back. "Get out of the way!"

Feliciano burst in through the door. Lovino swallowed the want to abandon Natalie and keep the kid safe. Feliciano could take care of himself.

Hell, Feliciano was the one that had been smart enough to bring a weapon. Lovino could see his army knife in his hand.

"We just want to make sure," Feliciano said to the thing. 'We're not blaming you of anything. No, calm down."

What? Lovino shook his head. Did Feliciano see the girl? Why couldn't he? Was she—it speaking?

"Feli," Lovino said. "Stop talking to it."

" _What_?" Feliciano asked, fidgeting with the closed knife.

How the fuck was he supposed to explain this?

"I can see you for you," he skipped the middle man. If sounding like a psycho was the only way out of this, then who gives a fuck? "Whatever you are. Go away, because we know exactly how to kill you." He tried to think of supernatural things in the media. Vampires and silver, ghosts and salt, something about sulfur somewhere down the line. He really truly wished that he would have paid more attention to these things. Now he was stuck speaking out his fucking ass like always. With no relative information to go off of.

"kill?" Natalie screeched behind him. She pushed him. Not expecting it, he tumbled away. She ran to the thing.

The moment her skin was in its line of gravity, she seemed to pale, to slow, to  _drain_. Her tone was so much less as she spoke, but there was still something of life in it. "You're not going to kill my sister."

Lovino wanted to grab her, but he couldn't. Ever second took more and more from him. The light was dimmed, the color wasn't important. He was empty. The more he thought, the more everything seemed to not matter. He needed to push forward and do something, but why? He didn't even know what this thing was. He didn't know how to defeat it. How to explain to those around him what it was or why it was there. He didn't even know the answer to those things. He felt…nothing. He wasn't good at emotions, but he knew this much. Empty, and useless, and the girl paling in front of him did nothing to help that.

Maybe he could watch, see what it did exactly. Then he would be able to explain it.

What did it matter if he wouldn't be able to?

Nothing.

"Lovino," Feliciano said, stealing away his attention from the impending emptiness in his gut. The boy looked worried, standing in the doorway,  _blocking_  the doorway, he suddenly realized.

Lovino shook his head, swallowing the darkness that had settled over him. Well, trying to. He recognized the fact that it wasn't going away. He was too close to this thing.

"Natalie, listen to me," he tried, stealing his hand forward and setting on her arm. She flinched dramatically. Lovino's sight suddenly blurred and dipped. Darkened. He retracted his hand, realizing that Natalie was slowly becoming not only pale, but  _dark_. As if she was becoming apart of the illusion. "Natalie," he said, more desperate, looking up at Feliciano, knowing just how much fear had to be painted on his features. If she was—she was dying! "She's not your sister. Please, focus on something else. On me. Please, anything else. Please."

Why couldn't he feel his heart beating? Why was the world becoming darker and darker.

He grabbed onto her again. Tugged. She was darkening, she was dying, he was empty and nothing mattered, and Feliciano was blocking the doorway but was so confused and it was just there in front of him. Not speaking. Not moving. Growing. Pulling in the world. Light gravity. A blackhole, sucking in the world, manipulating those around it.

"Natalie!" Lovino screamed.

Feliciano was forward, falling into the darkness. Natalie was pushing at him, but he had close his eyes and was pushing forward and forward and Lovino's emptiness gave to fear.

"Feliciano get away!  _Fuck_!"

Everything shook and groaned and become black. Lovino could hardly see anything. No. He couldn't be manipulated by this thing. He wasn't going to let it take his light. But it grew over him, sweeping and stealing and suckling away everything in its path.

He couldn't do anything. Natalie's skin was still against his. He wanted to focus on that. He wanted to focus on Feliciano. And then? Then he didn't want to focus on anything because none of it mattered.

"Ludwig!" Someone screamed just as Lovino allowed his eyes to close and the darkness to take over.

A single, impossible ignition of…something.

Something was better than nothing.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_N/A_


	12. Douze

But the spark wasn’t hope.

His back hit the front counter. A painful corner dug into his spin, causing his whole body to convulse and his breath to catch. “Fuck,” he yelled, blinking his eyes in constant succession. Everything was dark no matter what he did. He could hear the screaming and the grunting. The world pulsed. Temperatures dropped.

A grunt.

A crash.

Another screaming of a name that meant nothing to him.

And then he heard Feliciano cry out in pain. His heart skittered and skipped; he could only imagine what was happening. The Natalie girl could be heard over the chaos, crying. What was everyone else seeing? The pain in his back throbbed when he moved. He wondered lowly if he was bleeding. If it had knotted. If he would be able to move normally after this hell was over.

If it ever ended.

He pushed forward, grabbing Natalie and pulling her against him. She cried and screamed and hit. He cursed when a claw caught him in the face. Still, he held on.

“Stop struggling!” he yelled. “Surly you can see that this isn’t your sister!”

He wasn’t sure if his voice reached her, because she still struggled.

“Ludwig, get back here!” a creaking voice demanded.

Lovino half-placed, half-pushed Natalie to the floor. He needed her to stop for just a moment. Long enough for him to figure out what to do. Or, at least pretend at an answer. A solution.

“Get off me!” Feliciano screamed.

“Calm down; let me help!” Lovino felt he recognized that voice.

A solution, a plan, something to help. How did one beat the emptiness inside themselves when the answer wasn’t directly in front of them? What plans were they supposed to follow? Was he supposed to follow the small thing inside him that told him to leave? He was no hero; he knew that. He could just walk out. He could leave. He could run or do something that would place this place and this thing behind him—in the past, his memories, until he could put enough time in between him and this hell to cover it up with time. He could do that.

Or he could listen to the other part of him that told him he could change what was happening. He could follow whatever path was sent by his dream. He could help. He could pretend to be that hero? But he couldn’t see! All he knew was that in the darkness he was hurt. All that he knew was the girl was crying. All that he knew was that there were strangers and that his pulse sped faster than it ever had and that he wanted to do something. If anything, something.

There was a deep grunt and what sounded like Feliciano acclaiming in response. Lovino knew that sound. It was muffled, high-pitched, and what Feliciano let out anytime he was cornered. There was a sharp, deep yell and a slap. Feliciano cried out again, and the sounds of a scuffle broke.

Lovino tried to shake himself forward. Something wrapped around his chest, pulling him downward. He let out a yell, pushing at the sticky, dense paste around him. It was warm and filtered through his fingers. He could still hear Feliciano fighting. He couldn’t move! The paste fell around him, growing, dark even through the blackness that surrounded him. The warmth grew into something that burned and popped around him. He could feel his skin blister. He screamed.

Only, the moment he tried to cry out paste filled his mouth. He fell downward, choking and trying to claw at his neck but being unable to because his hands were now stuck to the floor. His head flashed with images. Bellicose screams, roaring towards him, high weapons, flashing flames and fires. His whole body exploded with the only emotions he knew.

Desperation.

Hopelessness.

Chaos.

He fought, pulling against the strains. His chest filled with the burning blacktop. It did little to nothing to slow his pulsating heart. A mile a minute. Second. Faster, faster; so fast it fell aflame, bright and anxious and purple in the dismal blackness.

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

He couldn’t scream or cry or ask for help. He could only fight. He could only quiver against the ropes of despondency.

He couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t! This battle was one that he didn’t want to fight! The images, the visions in his head. They flashed with vigor. Changing and swirling but all leaving their mark; one after another covering. He swung. His fists met nothing but goo and floor. He kicked. His knees could lift no further than attacking his own stomach, causing him to become hunched over further than what he had been. He bit and he pulled. His mouth only filled further, his shoulders were pressed backward with every motion.

And through it all, everything burned. Enveloping inferno. Silence broken by cries and roars and scuffles and  _pain_. He had never heard pain. It was not a sound. It was a feeling; it was nerves gasping for attention, screaming that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t a sound. It wasn’t.

So Lovino must be going insane to think that he heard it.

There was no bandage that he could image that would be able to fix his situation. There was no bucket that would release him from this sea. It was violently suffocating. He knew this; he identified it. It was something that he needn’t think of to know. A feeling beneath bubbling skin, fingertips, between his ribcage. Instinctual.

And through everything that bit and tore at him, he identified one final thing. It was strange. It was warming. It was comfortable.

Beneath the black chaos, he found contentment.

Until all that was torn away.

He could feel a new kind of warmth against his skin. It brushed against the flames and the burns, just above the nook of his elbow. Like a Spring breeze, whispering across his skin. The salt and the weeds. Not only did it calm the hurt where it touched, it also caused everything to change tone; scheme. It pulled away the black, caused it to fall to ash. He closed his eyes, an energy so blinding and surreal threatening to blind him.

And then he could move. He fell backward, gasping and crying.

The touch on his arm tightened. A hand. “Lovino, are you okay?” Feliciano cried above him.

Lovino opened his eyes. The world was no longer black. Though it was now blurred by choked, rimming tears. His whole body felt weak. Felt drained. It was the emptiness from before, only there was something settled within it. Something of accomplishment. Comfortable. Stable. As if he had defeated a force and within the motions had given up his own life force.

And Feliciano was kneeling over him looking equally tired, only somehow he had mustered up enough energy to be worried and to cry. Lovino couldn’t help it. He laughed. It was small and it was shaky, but seeing Feliciano in that moment brought something of humor to his muscles. His tears were…well they were silly. His worry was somehow displaced. Lovino didn’t know why. Lovino knew very little when it came to these things. Lovino just knew that for a single second that he was safe and he was…he didn’t know.

He wouldn’t know until later.

“I’m fine, bastard,” Lovino said lightly, staring up into honey eyes, blinking away his own tears so that he wouldn’t look silly too.

Feliciano shook his head. “What—what was that? That black stuff? Lovino what’s happening?”

So, Feliciano had seen it too? He wondered if everyone had seen it. Lovino used his hands to sit up. He was about to answer, but his vision was faster than him, registering the scene.

The tall blond from before sat in the doorway. He held his nose. The silver blond was beside him with crossed arms, practically glaring over at Feliciano. And then, seemingly unnoticed by the others, was a figure just beyond Lovino’s feet. It was boney and sprawled. Lovino’s breath caught.

Slowly he stood. Peering over the figure, he stared at it carefully.

It was a woman. She was so still, so jagged, that she almost looked as if she were made of wood. Her body parts contorted in a strange way—unnatural. Her hands were suspended above her chest, clothed by nothing, fingers clawed as if they held something. Something invisible and what even Lovino himself couldn’t see.

“Felici—Feli.” Lovino choked out.

Feliciano was at his side, his voice saying something but Lovino hadn’t caught it. He could only stare. The woman’s eyes were open, though they weren’t normal. They weren’t glossy and frozen like Gabriel’s, but they weren’t warm and alive like Feliciano’s—or even cold and icy like that tall blond’s. They held no deeper warmth like Kiku’s, or sharp attitude like Elizeveta’s. They were something Lovino had never seen before. A million colors were etched into a starred iris, the pupil bleeding into the surrounding ball, seeming to flow into the skin of the emaciated eye socket. So dark they seemed to complete an abyss of their own.

“Can you—her, can you see her?”

“Who, Lovino?”

Of course. He couldn’t see her. This figure of immaculate destruction and curiosity. Set in the cask of a gaunt—what? It was on the tip of Lovino’s tongue. He felt like he knew so much, but behind some veil the rest of the answer truly sat.

Still, he knew what was rising in his own chest as he stared. It was the yearning to know what she was holding. With slow motions he stooped down to find out.

The moment he placed his hand in between hers his skin tingled. He fought to still it. Something seemed to simmer to life. Something small. Lovino wrapped two fingers around it.

Pulling it back, he heard Feliciano’s breath in his ears. “Lovino, what--!”

In his hand he held a small red berry. With furrowed brows he examined it. It didn’t seem like something he could eat, the inside meat green and starchy, and it let off a sharp odor.

“A holly tree berry,” one of the blonds said.

“What?” Lovino demanded.

“In your hand,” the silver head said. His gaze was redder than the fruit as it landed on Lovino. He almost looked like he was squinting at him, glaring, perhaps, though it held nothing particularly sinister. More so perplexed.

“Where’d it come from?” Feliciano giggled nervously. Lovino shot a glance at the floor.

The lady had disappeared.

Okay, he totally wasn’t freaking the fuck out?

The tall blond stood from his crouched position. Blood drippled from a nostril, and Lovino had the sudden realization that Feliciano might have broken his nose. A strange warmth, pride, spread through Lovino’s chest. No, the kid really didn’t need Lovino to look after him. He had dropped a block—though later Lovino would discover that said block had only allowed himself to be dropped.

The tall blond still seemed sour, but he didn’t vocalize it. “Have either of you two heard about the Clockwork Confraternity?”

Lovino just stared. Was this guy kidding? “What the fuck is that?” he demanded. “Some Steampunk bookclub?”

Feliciano hit him in the arm. “No, we haven’t,” the kid said.

Lovino scrunched his nose. He didn’t like this situation. He didn’t like the two in front of him. He didn’t like the missing lady or the appearing berry or the fact that he felt he had been fucking roofied. The images had completely left him, and it frustrated him beyond all else. Nothing made sense, and now some big ass block stood in front of him, an air of dignity, as if he had all fucking answers, and started naming off what could only be some fictitious roleplaying forum somewhere. He had no patience.

But Feliciano did, and so he would hand off the conversation to him.

“When we were talking earlier, you mentioned that girl being murdered.”

Feliciano nodded his head. “Yes, Lovino—uh, we were worried for her.” He smiled a little bit.

“Why were you worried?”

“Call it a gut feeling,” Feliciano said.

The silver head nodded, his crossed arms falling to his pockets. “Strange,” he mused with a slight laugh, “because I think you might have just fucked everything up.”

“What do you mean?” Lovino demanded.

“I mean that we were sent here to solve that girl’s murder, but it looks like, because of you two, she may actually live.”

The girl, who had been listening from her position on the floor, practically an autumn leaf on the stiff tile, cried out. “Murdered!”

“And you weren’t going to do anything about it!” Feliciano yelled. “And what do you mean you were  _sent here to solve her murder_? If you knew that it was going to happen, and you did nothing to stop it, that would make you a murderer by association!”

The boy’s ardor seemed to amuse the silver headed blond. His laughter was ragged. “Not in our case, kid.”

It was Lovino’s turn to calm Feliciano down. He grabbed the hem of the kid’s shirt with a light curse. Feliciano seemed ready to jump forward and fight it out—and no doubt list a novel of opinions afterwards—but Lovino really didn’t have enough energy to play tag-team with this pair.

“ _Not in your case_! That’s not how it works. I don’t care what your case is. Knowing that she was in danger and not helping her is not only a  _crime_ , but its  _immoral_!”

“Save the preaching for someone who cares,” the silver head groaned. “And, for when you have all the information.”

“Gilbert,” the tall blond said, turning closer to him and muttering something. The silver head nodded, answering with a smirk.

And somehow Feliciano and Lovino ended up leaving the gas station with them.

They had decided that they couldn’t call the police. Natalie had been very against that idea, though. Lovino wondered, as they walked, whether she would. They hadn’t left until Natalie had called her manager. There was someone on the way to relieve her of the rest of her shift—which wasn’t much, thirty minutes, perhaps—and she would be on her way home by the time they had found themselves in some shitty motel to listen to whatever explanation these two bonds had for them.

The night was drowning, orange lights of the trucks incisively twirling in the air. The motel was no more than a ten-minute walk, though every minute was more uncomfortable than the last. Lovino and Feliciano walked side by side behind the two blonds who seemed to be muttering to one another. The pavement crashed, the dismal lights of scattered houses and closed establishments were far and wide between, but close enough that it seemed there was no actual darkness surrounding them.

“ _We’re_  going to be murdered, you know.” Lovino muttered into Feliciano’s ear.

“I don’t think so,” Feliciano responded. “I—I don’t know what it is, but I trust them.”

“Lots of people trust the people they’re murdered by,” Lovino pointed out.

Feliciano laughed as if Lovino had said something funny. He hadn’t.“Don’t worry about it. I sent Al a text explaining enough of the situation. He’s got our location.”

Lovino shook his head. “And you’re okay with that? Him tracking your phone? How do you know that  _he’s_  not some murderer? Don’t answer, actually. You really need to stop trusting people!”

“And you need to stop distrusting people,” Feliciano pouted. “Let’s just hear them out for what they have to say. This clock-thing sounds interesting.”

“It sounds like complete bullshit.” Lovino growled. “Just don’t take anything to eat or drink from them.”

“Deal.”

The motel was a single floor. The white scratched away long ago, now a desolate pattern of weathering and neglect. The room they came to was B02. The blonds hadn’t locked the door, as now the tall one walked in without issue. That really didn’t help Lovino feel comfortable.

The room smelt of dust and mothballs, hidden somewhere by some old lady. A set of twin beds, accompanied by twin lamps and bedside tables, decorated the room. There was a single painting above the headboards. Some cheaply painted boat with a scratched-out signature.

“Quaint,” Lovino drawled, looking around skeptically. No doubt there was a roll of tape and a tarp somewhere just out of eyeshot. He hugged the wall by the door, arms crossed and eyes squinted in an obvious glare.

The blonds didn’t seem to expect them to go far from the door, as they both quickly turned to them. The silver blond got comfortable.

“Okay, so say whatever the fuck was so important to drag us all the way over here so that we can leave. I—We have someone coming to pick us up soon because our truck broke down, and they’ll be pulling up to the motel in a few minutes.” Feliciano was contently silent to the lie.

The blond stiffened. “You don’t have anyone coming.”

“And you don’t sound like a serial killer.” Lovino snapped.

“Calm down, ladies,” the silver head cooed, thrashing through a suitcase just out of Lovino’s line of sight. “We’ll have you two in and out of here in a jiff. A gas station quickie. Fuck, Lud where the hell is it?”

“Is what?”

“The—My—Here it is!” The albino retracted what looked like a book to his chest, kicking the suitcase closed and opening it with the flourish of an attention-attracting child.

“What was that black stuff?” Feliciano echoed from before.

“It was the true form of something called a  _Hollow_. In English, anyway.”  _Lud_  said matter-of-factly.

“A what?” Feliciano asked.

“That sounds like some urban legend.” Lovino reprehended.

Lud gave Lovino no light of day. “It’s a type of shapeshifter. One that clasps onto a person’s desperation and deepest desires. When we saw it, it was in the form of what that one girl wanted to see.”

“Her sister,” Lovino shared. “ _Dead_  sister.”

“Yes.”

“So, it shows whatever—uh form?—that it takes until it feels attacked, then?”

Lud shook his head. “No, it usually keeps it up until the very end. What happened tonight was unusual.”

The silver head laughed from his spot on the bed. “As if seeing a  _Hollow’s_  true form was the strangest thing that happened tonight.”

“What do you mean?” Feliciano asked.

“I mean,” the silver head said, flipping another page with a short shake of his head. “ _Hallows_  are practically impossible to kill. Also, it’s impossible to change the past unless you come from the future, and if you don’t know what the Confraternity is, then you obviously don’t come from the future.”

Lovino could  _feel_  his eye twitching. He had not stepped into some Sci-Fi drama, last time he checked, damn it. Time travel, shapeshifters, none of these things existed. If they had, then there’d be a lot more fucking foot traffic on the god damn internet forums about them. Hell, it’d be in the national media. And if one fucking person tried to fucking sell him some stupid fucking government conspiracy he was going to blow. “Come from the future?” he tittered. “Okay, that’s enough. Feliciano, we’re leaving.”

“You don’t believe in time travel?” The silver head asked, amused.

“No, because I’m not an idiot.” And, Lovino added silently, if you try to tell me some fucking  _fact_  about some future event I will punch you.

He wasn’t going to punch anyone, but it felt nice to think.

“That’s unfortunate,” the silver head said, finally finding his place in his journal, “because if you can’t believe that I really don’t think we’re going to get through your head why you’re having visions.”

“ _What_? I never told you about—”

He cut himself off when the silver head smirked at him, eyes gleaming. Lovino strengthened his arms’ bond across his chest. “Fine,” he snapped.

“Good. Alrighty, Luddy, continue with your spiel.”

Lud rolled his eyes. “Before we go any further,” he put out his hand to Feliciano, “Ludwig Beilschmidt.”

“Feliciano Varmint,” Feliciano offered diligently.

“That’s my brother, Gilbert.”

Feliciano nodded. “And my friend, Lovino.”

Lovino and Gilbert shared a glance, both with the same sarcastic question of “so did I lose my voice?” underlying their looks.

Ludwig was the first to break the handshake, stepping back and straightening. “Good. Now, the organization my brother and I are working under is known  _briefly_  as the Clockwork Confraternity. It’s—”

“A silly name,” Lovino broke in. Again, he was ignored.

“—a system that works to re-establish balance throughout the times.”

“Throughout the times?” Feliciano asked, taking a seat that Ludwig had offered him at the foot of one of the beds. Lovino watched the tall blond’s every movement. He really didn’t like him.

“There are a list of different supernatural beings that have the ability to move through time. Because of this, there needed to be a group of some sort that needed to be set up to offset them. Its to keep a balance between forces. If a  _Hollow_  was able to take over any time-period they wanted, then there would be too much devastation in the forces, and it would become catastrophic. It would rewrite history as a whole. So, there’s something to protect against that, and that something is called the Clockwork Confraternity.”

Feliciano nodded slowly, but he didn’t look too happy. “I see. So you go around killing these supernatural creatures, then?”

“No. We imprison them.” Ludwig said.

Feliciano looked up at him, a new gusto in his face. “Really? For how long?”

Ludwig was taken aback. Lovino rolled his eyes. “Well, I guess not for long at all. I don’t know the process, but imprisonment isn’t what it sounds like. It’s not the human version. Because these creatures are so powerful, and with some there’s no rhyme or reason, the order finds a way to create different strings of time for them.”

“I don’t understand.”

Gilbert smirked from his place. “Go on, Luddy, give it to them. He can be a real dork.”

Ludwig took a deep breath, Lovino recognizing the annoyance on his face. “Think about it like someone creating a brand-new world for every prison. They’re known as strings of time. They’re like alternate universes.”

Feliciano furrowed his brow. “But that doesn’t make any sense! Are these strings filled with duplications of what’s on Earth?”

“No.”

“Duplications of anything?”

“No.”

“So are these beings left alone!” Feliciano was obviously getting worked up.

“Not exactly.”

“That’s not good enough!” Feliciano yelled. “If they are as sentient as you and I, then putting them somewhere where they are surrounded by some creation is just as bad as isolating them! It’s worse than imprisonment! It’s—It’s beastly!”

Ludwig seemed to study the kid for a long moment. “They are not alone.”

“No,” Feliciano’s sass level had risen to 100, “then what are they?”

“They’re—we—the order makes sure to put them in a situation where their power is able to balance out. I—I don’t understand why we’re discussing this now. There’s more to be—”

Feliciano set him with a hard look. “We’re talking about this because you are actively working for a system that is promising sentient beings a fate worse than death.”

Ludwig shot Lovino a desperate look. It was amusing. Shrugging, Lovino tried not to smirk as he said “he’s got this weird thing for justice. I suggest you just roll with it.”

Gilbert sniggered. “Who has it better, the unjust man or the just man?”

Feliciano fixed him with a bitter stare. “This isn’t some philosophy to go over, so if you could please keep Plato to a minimum.”

“Sor-rie.” Gilbert chuckled.

“Anyway,” Ludwig said, “we can go over all that later. But there is more at hand that is important.”

Feliciano opened his mouth to retort, but Lovino cleared his throat, cutting him off. “Alright, then. So you work for some stupid group that sends you threw time to fix order or whatever. Continue.”

Ludwig nodded at him. It felt nice to be acknowledged. “Alright, thank you. Anyway, as I was saying, we work for the Clockwork Confraternity and are sent to different timelines that have been infiltrated by unbalanced forces. In this situation, it looks like we were chasing a  _Hollow_. However, it’s strange. We’re never given  _what_  we’re supposed to be chasing, just a crime. Usually murder or political infringement. In this case, it was the murder of a Natalie Arlofskaya. But, there’s a problem. Because of you two, it looks like there won’t be a murder after all.”

Lovino shrugged. “So we changed something. I’m sure that happens all the time. You just being here could cause some fucking butterfly affect, yeah? What’s so weird about it all.”

“Never have we dealt in a situation that the crime was stopped by us being here.”

“Actually,” Gilbert chimed in, “it’s really bad that it happened. Rule number one is don’t prevent the crime, as it can tear apart the timeframe and kill, just, everyone.” Red gleamed with mischief. “And that’s why we weren’t going to save your little girlfriend, by the way.”

Feliciano pouted.

“Or by anyone else,” Ludwig continued. “The fact that she’s not dead is not good.”

“And the fact that we haven’t been given the signal to return is even worse,” Gilbert seemed to remind him. “I’m really sick of 2023.”

‘Well, what does it matter?” Lovino snapped. “It’s already done. We can’t do anything to change it. Maybe your bosses messed up or something.”

“Maybe,” Gilbert said, “or maybe not. Do you regocnize this?”

Gilbert turned the bok towards Lovino. He quickly corrected himself. It wasn’t some book, but more of a journal. A scrap-book, per say. And the picture that looked out at him was that of a sculpture. It was a photograph, colored, taken in a museum.

Lovino’s heart dropped.

“It’s a sculpture done by Alberto Giacometti in 1934.” Gilbert mused, amused by Lovino’s speechless reaction. “It was named  _Hands Holding the Void._ Now, tell me, have you seen it.”

“I—yes,” Lovino choked.

He had indeed seen it. It was the blinking image of the woman he had seen on the floor of the convenience store an hour earlier. Only now she was a picture of some bronze statue.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I must congratulate you,” he smiled.

“On what?” Lovino demanded. He was light headed.

“Very rarely do we find descendants of Chaos who have actually found their Golden Mean.”

Was it appropriate to laugh right now? Because Lovino couldn’t help himself. He didn’t understand anything that Gilbert had just said to him. They were words that he knew the meaning of, sure, but in succession they were gibberish, and now he was chortling from the deepest points of his being. He was so tired, and his head hurt so bad, and he wanted nothing but to blink and wake up from this boring ass fucking dream that made no goddamn sense.

How did one wake up from a dream? Look at a clock, or try to focus on a face, or focus on some sort of media?

“Oh, wow, what a party,” he dismissed. “But I think I’m running late—” he clicked on his phone. Time seemed to be right, “for a very important date,” he focused in on Feliciano’s face. The kid’s features were like they always were. “No time to say ‘Hello,’ Goodbye,’” he scooped up the TV remote from on top of the console and pressed the button. “I’m late, I’m late, I’m—”

Fuck.

“—With detective Berwald Oxenstierna.” The tall blond that Lovino recognized from the interrogation room when Feliciano had been taken in was pushing away a mic, seemingly rushing to be anywhere other than in front of the camera. They stood in front of a bright gas station. “Can you give us any information on what has happened?” The female news reporter said.

“No comment,” he said, pushing away the mic again.

The noise fell into the background when the camera tried to bounce around the tape and catch a sight of the crime. A stretcher was rolled out. Lovino didn’t have to see the body to know what had happened. He knew what gas station that front door belonged to.

“Explains why there’s no signal” Gilbert said almost happily. “Looks like you two didn’t prevent anything.”

**AUTHOR’S NOTES**

_Okay, so this is late as fuuuuuuck. I have taken way too many naps in the past few days, and I guess something about the beach makes me want to swim more than it makes me want to write. Even if the water is -3429834 degrees. Hello to the new readers, it’s nice to have you, and I will be trying to get my chapters out much quicker. Promise._

_(When I make a three-day wait sound like the three-year one City of Masks is sitting at_


	13. Treize

Lovino had found a way to sprawl across one of the twin beds. He was exhausted. The other three chatted above him, but he doubted that they had come up with anything more than he had. Or perhaps they had. He didn't care.

"Lovino, sit up," Feliciano snapped at him, sitting on the bed with a bound. "I'm calling Alfred."

Lovino scooted over, but he didn't sit. "Good for you. Make sure to tell him all about the time traveling. Might hon in on his conspiracy about the cops being in on nine-eleven."

"What conspiracy?" Feliciano asked, genuinely confused.

Lovino just groaned and buried his face into the comforter.

There was whispering of movement and then Feliciano was whining. "Hey, give that back."

"You can't tell anyone what we've told you," Ludwig decided.

"I won't!" Feliciano promised. "I'm trying to figure out why Detective Oxenstierna is in Arizona."

"Do you think he followed us here?" Lovino asked with his mouth full of fabric.

"I don't know," Feliciano mumbled. "He could have just been put on another case up here. He has a history of working all over the United States, so it could very well be explained away.  _However_ ," his tone had become sharp. "I'm going to need my phone to figure all of that out."

Lovino peeked up. "Just give him his phone."

"How do I know that you guys aren't going to—"

"Give it to them, Ludwig," Gilbert demanded. "We don't have time for this. We're on a time crunch, remember?"

Ludwig hesitated, but ended up giving in and giving Feliciano his phone.

"Thank you." Feliciano sighed, clicking opened his phone and thumbing in the number. Lovino closed his eyes and listened to the soft sounds.

And then there was a droning dial tone. A long pause, then finally:

"Hello?"

"Al!" Feliciano practically cooed. "Did you get my text?"

"Yes, but I'm not in a situation right now where I can access anything. You're going to have to wait."

"We don't have time!" Gilbert yelled. He was getting more frustrated the more time clicked by.

"Uhm, we're kinda in a situation where we can't wait," Feliciano mumbled.

"The world—"

"Doesn't revolve around me, I know, Al, but this isn't about me. There's another murder here in Arizona, and it may tie into Detective Oxenstierna."

"What makes you say that?"

"He's on the case?" Feliciano's voice trailed off a bit as he talked.

" _Okay_?" Alfred demanded. "He's a fucking detective. He's going to be on cases all the time. Why do you think he ties into this?"

"Well—I don't know." Feliciano said. "He was the one investigating me when I was—uh—" Feliciano giggled, remembering where he was. "re-uh-making Zeeb's Iast Renaissance allegations" Feliciano nodded his head, his tone and face both brightening considerably. "My Zeeb salutation verging near Zorrinie's basket sues, y'know?" Alfred responded with a grunt. Lovino watched curiously as Feliciano babbled on. He knew what he was doing, and it was almost amusing. "Yeah, Zeeb's entitlements valued US laws, often oculus, varying within fallen helms. So, we're really worried that he may have something to do with this case."

Alfred sighed. "The soonest I will be able to get back to you will be in a couple of hours. Hold out until then. There's no gun to your head, right?"

"Nope! Just a bit of sweets," he laughed.

Lovino shook his head. He wasn't sure what the hell Feliciano was on today, but whatever it was he wanted some.

"Good," Alfred said. "If anything goes south contact me. Is that friend of yours there?"

"Lovino?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, do you want to talk to him?"

"No. Just keep an eye out for him."

Feliciano laughed. "He can hear you, Al."

There was a tight string of curses. "What have I told you about our conversations being kept private?" he growled.

"Well, this isn't really a private situation, Ally," Lovino groaned, picking his head up enough so that he would be heard. "So maybe lay off."

"Boy—"

"Alright, Al! Just be sure to contact when you have something. We really don't have time to argue anything. Thank you a million!" And with that Feliciano hung up. Slouching onto the bed he sighed.

"I'm going out to do some investigating." Ludwig said. He was already shrugging on his coat. Gilbert wasn't far behind him.

"What do you mean?" Feliciano asked, sitting back up.

"We need to do our job," was the short answer. The door opened and before they knew it the two blond brothers were gone. Lovino groaned into his own upright position.

"We've gotta help them," Feliciano said.

"No, we don't. They're job, not ours."

"But-!"

"No, Feliciano. And what happens if you go in there and Detective Oxenstierna decides you being placed at the crime is enough evidence to finally hold you? Or he goes through our cab and finds your new fake ID? It's not smart. Let them run around and discover shit."

And for a minute, Feliciano complied. A very tense, dense, long, perhaps even half, minute. But Feliciano was never good at being told no. Lovino was only half surprised when the kid jumped off the bed.

"Feliciano!"

"Don't worry, Lovino, I have a plan!" he was yelling as he was opening the door and leaving. Lovino growled, running after him.

"I fucking swear, you're the biggest brat I've ever met!" Lovino yelled, shutting the door behind him, deciding not to lock it because the others hadn't locked it.

Feliciano was a much faster runner than him. This was apparent by the fact that he had, indeed, caught up with the two blonds years before Lovino had. Lovino hunched over, grey from old age and grumbling about the ball on his walker when he arrived.

"Feliciano, I told you to-!" Lovino began, but when he looked at the kid's expression he knew that it was a lost cause. "Fucking a," Lovino grumbled.

"I just want to help," Feliciano insisted. "You heard how serious this thing was. It's really serious, isn't it, you guys?"

Ludwig seemed to be getting annoyed, but he was too professional to actually show it. "Maybe it is best if you two stay out of the way," he said.

"What?" Feliciano demanded.

"Yeah," Gilbert agreed. "We really don't need to add babysitting onto the list of things to do tonight."

"You heard the nice men," Lovino practically sniggered. "Let's just stay out of the way, and if Alfred responds with something we can find them and tell them."

"But-!"

"Let's just go back to the truck and—"

"No, Lovino. I am helping."

"Geez," Gilbert whistled, "are we sure that one's not the descendent."

Ludwig shrugged. "Balance is balance, I guess. Listen, kid," Ludwig said, stopping in his tracks. "There's a lot more than supernatural creatures going on here."

"What do you mean?" Feliciano asked with a slight laugh. "What's bigger than that?"

Gilbert and Ludwig shared a glance. "Just," Gilbert said, "I would really suggest that you two stay out of the way."

Lovino really didn't like how secretive these two were being, but at the same time they were only encouraging what he was pushing. So, he would let it slide.

"Feliciano, let's just go back to the truck." Lovino's tone was genuenly worried at this point. The two men in front of them both held an air of seriousness. Even Gilbert, who up to this point had either been overly humored or frustrated. Here they seemed to be in some kind of work-mode. He and Feliciano didn't need to be getting in the way. And, if they said it was dangerous, then he would take that at face value. He just hoped that Feliciano would take his head out of his ass long enough to see it, too.

Feliciano played with the hem of his jacket. "Yeah, alright," he finally gave. Lovino sighed in relief.

So, reaching the parking lot the two parties spilt ways. Lovino and Feliciano headed towards the truck, the other two darted towards the back of the gas station. Filling into the cab Lovino sighed.

"Strange things are happening," Feliciano said quietly.

"Thank you, Capt'n." Lovino drawled, checking his can of ice coffee and cursing to find that it was empty. There was no way that he was going to sleep tonight. Feliciano's tendency to bolt at the drop of reckless situations and the overlying danger that just being in this country seemed to have made sure of it. Groaning he sat back in the driver's seat, cursing the wheel when his knee hit it.

"What do you think it all means?" Feliciano continued.

"I don't fucking know. That we got mixed up with a group of crazies and coincidentally there happened to be a murder involved." Oh, how that sounded like an explanation Lovino could get behind. It made him a little bit insane, sure, but they had prescriptions that could fix anything these days.

"You know that's not it." Feliciano groaned.

Yeah, Feliciano was right. He did know that that wasn't how this game was being played. But at the same time, the other option was terrifying. Supernatural creatures, time—what was it? Time schemes, strings, he couldn't remember—weird groups of people jumping around to solve murders and political unrest. It was the fucking illuminati turned up to 11. How was he supposed to deal with that?

And then there were his visions—or whatever the fuck someone could call them without sounding like a goddamn teenage girl reading about sparkly vampires. Fuck, what did they mean by—what had they said? He could hardly remember. He found himself chewing on the skin around his thumb nail as he contemplated what had happened.

The statue. That was something that was set in stone. Well, bronze. He had seen a real version of her, and from her hands he had pulled out a berry. What did that mean? Was that girl the  _Hollow_? He really wished he could be like one of those movie character and that all the answers would just all suddenly appear because  _plot convenience_. But instead he kept being thrown in confusing ass situations with no real explanation.

"Lovino," Feliciano said from beside him. He was staring intently at his phone. Lovino hummed at him, no real intention to speak. "I—" he cut himself off, "I think that there may be a problem."

And let another confusing ass situation ensue. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that according to the news there's been a bunch of disappearances in this area."

Lovino threw his head back. "Damn it, Feliciano. Can't we just let this all go?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm  _tired_."

"Don't you want to figure out what all this means?"

Lovino laughed. "No. No, I don't. I really could care less."

"You know, phrasing it like that means that you do care—"

"Feliciano! No. I don't. Don't look at me like that, damn it. I don't want to know about fucking supernatural creatures and whatever the hell mystery lies with your new missing persons. Fuck, Feliciano, I took this job because I just wanted to get away from it all!"

Feliciano furrowed a brow. "What do you mean  _get away from it all_? I thought you took this job because you were sick f working at the truck stop."

Lovino scrubbed his hand down his face. " _Really_? Do you  _not_  remember the whole Gabriel ordeal?"

"You mean—it wasn't just a gut feeling?"

"No! I—fuck, Feliciano, if you would just listen to what I  _actually_  say instead of trying to grasp at straws and find deeper meaning, you would already know this!"

Feliciano threw his hands up. They were both getting frustrated. "Why are you getting mad at me right now? I don't even know what you're talking about!"

"When—Ugh!" It had been weeks ago, so it didn't matter. Fuck, the kid probably didn't even remember anything. "Nothing. Just, nothing. Forget it!"

"Forget what, Lovino? I don't understand why you're being like this!"

"Because-!" Because everything was falling apart, and he didn't know what to do other than yell and scream. But he couldn't say that. "Because I'm sick and tired of you jumping into stupid ass situations without thinking! You're not just putting yourself in danger. The hail? What if we would have gone off the road, Feliciano? What would have happened then? Fucking bringing a fake ID along with you? That makes me just as fucking guilty as you!"

"Lovino, shut up! You're bringing up things that have already happened! They don't matter! What is your problem?"

"My problem? My  _problem_? It's fucking you!" His tone was sharp and loud, and he could feel the aggravation in his chest. "It's whatever the fuck this all is. This—This— _This!_ " He groaned, shoving his palms into his eyes. He didn't know! He couldn't fucking put words to this feeling of complete helplessness and confusion. How could he?

Feliciano laughed from beside him. Lovino shot him a glare, and even Feliciano's tears weren't enough to ease his anger this time. "Wow, okay, thanks," Feliciano said cheerily. "This whole emotion exchange is brilliant. You know, I sometimes wonder why all the girls are throwing themselves at you, but I can totally see why now. You're such a conversationalist."

"Stop with your passive aggressive bullshit," Lovino growled.

"You right," he clicked. "Well, I need to pee or something. I'll be back."

Lovino bit his tongue and let him go. It wasn't his place to order the kid around. Fuck, he wasn't a kid. He was a grown ass fucking adult that could go get himself killed if he wanted to. Lovino was fine with it.

And if repeating that phrase ten million times in his head as he climbed to the back wasn't enough, then he didn't know what was.

* * *

It had been too long.

Granted, the first three seconds had been well over long enough.

He had been angry, yeah, but that was nothing new. Lovino had said worse things before. Feliciano was always sharp with his retorts, and Lovino suspected that Feliciano needed to yell just as much as he did sometimes. This was just another one of those times, right? And, sure, four hours was practically nothing. He could go days without Feliciano returning and without something of an apology passing between them, but at the same time, four hours was much too long in the situation that they were stuck in. They lived in the same god damn truck now.

He rechecked his phone. Nothing. Groaning he sent a text.

After ten minutes, he decided that that, too, had been much too long.

He climbed out of the back of the cab and out the door. There were still police mossing around, and Lovino was surprised that he hadn't been questioned yet. He  _was_  a trucker in the goddamn parking lot, and if they had enough sense to check the video cameras they would have seen that he was a player in something suspicious maybe minutes before he death. Why hadn't he been questioned?

A deep underlying discomfort settled in his gut.

Had they already found a suspect? Had the image feed been distorted? According to movies supernatural things had the ability to do that? But, no, the picture of Gabriel had come out loud and clear. Maybe only when they were in their true forms? Fuck, he didn't have a single idea where the line between truth and fiction lie. Still, there was a question of a dead girl and a missing friend and a pair of strange time-traveling bastards at hand.

A tight lipped smile was presented to the world. He was  _thrilled_.

He decided to ultimately skip the police. With his hands shoved into his pockets and he quickly walked towards the motel he hoped to find the three asshats of the afternoon assembled. The weather was good, warm, and gave the world a sent of hot pavement and stiff bark chips. Coming to the door he opened it.

Chaos ensued.

"Don't yell at me, damn it!" Gilbert yelled, hanging off one side of the bed. The two were bustling around, seeming to be looking for something.

"Hey, bastards," Lovino announced. "Where's—"

"You!" Ludwig accused with a pointed finger. "Did you take it?"

Whoop, the twitch in his eye was back. "Take what?"

"My journal," Gilbert said, sitting up from his place with a huff. "It's missing."

Obviously. "No, I never touched your journal."

"Your friend?"

"No—probably not. How about this, you help me find him and I'll let you interrogate him."

"He's missing?"

Lovino shrugged his shoulders. No, he would not get worried right now. Feliciano was an adult that knew enough about fighting and about people to not get himself killed. He was probably squatted in some dumpster somewhere.

Was it weird that that was a comforting thought?

"He went exploring a while ago," Lovino said blankly. "Hasn't returned. But don't worry, I really doubt he came in and stole your shit."

"That's not the problem," Ludwig groaned.

Lovino quirked and eyebrow. He could find some humor in the big guy's total look of distraught. "Then what is?"

Gilbert laughed from his place on the bed. It was more of a snicker, actually, as he stood and grabbed his coat. Lovino's pulse accelerated when he proceeded to pull a gun from the large pocket. A sawed-off shotgun. Wonderful.

Wonderful.

Fucking wonderful.

No, Lovino was  _not totally fucking about to fucking die._

This was normal. Everything was okay.

Okay.

Yes.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

Gilbert shrugged on said coat and Lovino dismally wondered how many hidden weapons were among the brown leather.

"Nothing is funny," Ludwig snapped. "You should have kept him from running off!"

Lovino felt like he was being accused of something that he didn't do. "I'm not his mother!" he quickly defended.

"Hope that helps you sleep at night when we find his body," Gilbert mused.

"Shut up, Gil! You don't know—"

Gilbert laughed again. "I know that once they figure out he is one of the energies that can kill their  _Hollows_  they're not going to hesitate."

"Stop! Stop! Just fucking stop speaking like that!" Lovino screamed. He was SICK of not understanding what was going on. "Can you please slow down and tell me what is happening?"

Ludwig tapped his fingers against his thigh, his eyes darting from the door to Lovino and back again. His whole figure screamed that they didn't have time, but finally he broke.

"According to our research there's a trafficking rink using these  _Hollows_  to lure people in."

Lovino leaned against the wall with the implications. "Wait, so that girl—"

"She was being targeted." Ludwig confirmed.

Lovino could feel the rock settle in his gut. "Fuck, that means—"

"You got her killed." Gilbert said.

Lovino scrubbed at his eyes. Of course, he had thought that he maybe protected someone. He had thought that he had helped! But instead he was the reason that she had been killed. If what these two were saying was true, then the fact that he had killed that  _Hollow_  was the exact reason Natalie was dead instead of being shuttled to New Mexico. Was death a better fate?

Why was he stuck question this!

And now Feliciano was in the same boat. "Damn it, he could already be dead!" Lovino screamed. This fucking feeling in his chest was too fucking similar! Why couldn't he ever identify crushes or love or joy or something happy? Why was it always so awful? Fuck, he wasn't some angsty teenage boy!

"We have some information," Gilbert said, "stay here and we'll go try and find him."

"No." Lovino decided. "I don't know what the fuck is going on, but I know that I'm coming with you."

He hadn't had any visions of Feliciano dying. Maybe he was safe—maybe he was okay?

"It's best to bring him along," Ludwig decided. "If we run into any  _Hollows_ —"

"Yeah, but if his friend is dead then it we're practically putting him to death. You saw what one  _Hollow_  did to him. He obviously hasn't come to his potential."

What.

What.

What.

His skin crawled and he wanted to jump and scream and punch and cry! "What potential?"

"You're a descendent of Chaos."

" _What_?"

"The God. Chaos?" Ludwig said slowly.

"Fuck," Lovino growled, "are you—what the fuck—who the—fuck!" He didn't have any religious ties, damn it. He really didn't want to adopt any now, either! "Are you trying to tell me that—" his mind sputtered and spat—"okay but Christianity is-?"

He just needed a week to breath. That's all. This was too much. Pulling at his eyes he took a deep breath. Okay, play Feliciano. Smile stupidly through whatever the fuck was happening and figure it out later. Leave the foundation-breaking questions for later.

"Yeah, okay," he decided shallowly. "So, what, I have some great power?" His smile was great. He wondered if he sparkled. The sun was going to be up in a few hours. Maybe he should move to Oregon.

"Not yet. But you have the potential to."

He nodded, swiping at his nose and clicking his tongue. "Cool, cool. And so we're going to waltz into this place and what?"

Ludwig and Gilbert shared a glance.

* * *

Lovino had never shot a gun in his life. Whether that was an accomplishment, being born in middle America or pathetic he had never considered until now. Staring down at the simple pistol in his hand brought it into perspective, though.

They were not anyway Lovino had pictured them going to. He had mentally constructed a warehouse, a shady drug den, some underground subway,  _not_  the police station.

"What—uh—are we doing here?" Lovino stammered, looking out the backseat window. He definitely didn't have a permit for this gun. Did he have his ID on him? Fuck, he might have left it in the truck.

That didn't matter when Ludwig handed something back to him.

Lovino laughed. "Oh no, oh no—Oh no."

"What?"

"I am not using a  _fake police ID_. These things get you shot up in random goddamn diners." He could still smell the cooking stench of the dumpster. "And no one would believe this! I don't even have a picture ID to go along with it!"

Gilbert chuckled as he pulled into the parking lot. "Just play it cool. We'll cover you. It's just in case we get separated."

"What are we even doing here?" Lovino repeated. "I doubt they're running some trafficking rink through the  _police department_."

"Probably not," Ludwig said, getting out of the car, "but this is the best place to get information."

Lovino blew up his cheeks. Of course, it was. He almost asked which one was the designated flirter between the two of them, but held the comment back as he opened his own door.

They found themselves in the lobby of a small run-down police station. It was warmer in the building than it was outside, and Lovino was confused as to why it was open at the hour it was. People bustled around, nonetheless.

"Detective Larino," Gilbert said, pulling out his badge.

"Carson." Ludwig followed suit.

Lovino sunk behind them, a lying heart pattering in his chest dangerously fast.

"We're here for information on the most recent murder in case 4-2-6-8."

The woman at the counted gave him a strange look. "I'm sorry, sirs, but I don't believe that the FBI have any jurisdiction in this case."

"Don't worry about it," someone said from behind them. Lovino's heart dropped when he turned to find the familiar nest of curly hair that matched the voice. Officer Antonio Carriedo stood there, gun holsitered at his side and a dangerous smirk on his lips.

Fuck, he was caught.

Fuck.

Fuck!

"These men are working with me." Antonio continued, sending Lovino a gentle smile.

"Office—Officer Carriedo," Lovino choked.

"Detective, now," he laughed softly. "Please pull up the case files."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_You guys, so the author_ 2shy2call911  _(AO3) or_ febrezedtrash  _(FFNET) is planning a slow burn Itacest fic, and if you guys could help me encourage her that would be great. Her story_ It's Just a Kiss  _was what inspired me personally to write this fic (I had decided that I was done writing Itacest, but then I read that and everything just fell together. Plus it's cute AF) and honestly if we could get more slow burns from her I may just die from happiness._

_Also, I'm writing a short horror itacest (unrelated) one-shot, but it's looking like it might be around 15k words. Should I just split it up into parts? Like, intro, action, resolution? It's a psychological horror (on purpose) and so I'm thinking that maybe splitting it would make it easier to understand. BUT, as we know I'm bad at writing things out whether it's multi-or-single chapter, so I may just be fooling myself. Would you guys read a 15k one-shot?_

_Chapter question! Where do you think Feliciano is? Will they find him in time for him not to be_ murdered _?_


	14. Quatorze

"Why are you helping us," Lovino demanded.

Antonio fixed him with a curiously amused stare. "Do you not want my help? Because if you would like me to stick to my jurisdiction instead," they had walked outside and were standing around Gilbert and Ludwig's car, Antonio's brown eyes were black under a dark sky, and his police uniform was practically indistinguishable from a regular set of clothes. He leaned up against the vehicle, "I could easily turn the lot of you in for impersonation. Berwald is itching to crack down on Feliciano."

"No—I mean, obviously I don't—what I'm saying is-!" Lovino stammered like an idiot, frustration climbing up his throat.

"Where is he, anyway?"

"We're trying to figure that out," Ludwig said smoothly. He placed files on the trunk, using a keychain flashlight to quickly decipher the words.

Antonio's tone became serious as he left Lovino to his inability to speak properly. "Do you think he's in trouble?"

"Yes."

"And you think it has something to do with the trafficking case?"

Ludwig glanced up at him. "Yes." He decided finally.

Antonio crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes darting over the files. "Strange," he said slowly. " I wouldn't expect Feliciano to be wrapped up in this."

"What do you mean?" Lovino asked.

"Well, as far as I've been informed the kid sticks with small cases. We don't know who's feeding him information, but we know that they still have access to files. We've been trying to feed him fake cases for the last year, but he hasn't bitten. Not until the case of Gabriel Rodriguez."

Lovino furrowed a brow. "Are you saying that you fabricated that case?"

Antonio nodded. "We could have never predicted that he would show up alive, though. Truly strange."

Truly.

Lovino bit back his comment, but staring at these files he could feel his gut twist and turn. "I—I think that Gabriel was targeted by whoever is behind this." He spoke to Ludwig and Gilbert.

"What makes you say that?" Antonio inquired.

"Gut feeling." Lovino decided, hoping that one of the two blonds knew what he was saying. How would Feliciano put it? His nail had easily started bleeding in four places now.

He tried to hon in on whatever showed him Feliciano when he was in danger before. What had been different then now? Only the whole fucking world.

Pressing his back against the car he closed his eyes, trying to focus. He could see the boy's silhouette just beyond his eyelids, but it was blurry and imagined and no help. He was stuck with the information he had. Maybe it meant that Feliciano wasn't in danger? Maybe he was fine; scrappy enough to get himself out of a stupid situation?

Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that since he had faced the  _Hollow_  he had felt drained. Was it possible that the energy he put into destroying the force had taken away from the energy he would be able to put towards figuring these things out?

"Hey, calm down," Antonio was beside him, a soothing hand on his shoulder.

Lovino hadn't realized that he had started shaking. "Sorry," he choked. Apologizing for something that wasn't his fault, he could laugh. Or he could swallow his ego and kick himself while he was down. What was the last thing that he had said to the kid? Fuck, his memory really was horrible. Maybe he could blame it on whatever this myth about Gods was all about. Chaos. Really did put things into perspective.

"Don't be," Antonio said softly. "We'll find him. I promise."

Lovino wanted to snap at him, tell him not to make promises that he couldn't keep. Instead he just nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

* * *

Coffee, hot, brilliant, steaming into his face, suffocatingly intoxicating. Lovino stared down into his cup. The dirt liquid beckoned him, but every time he sipped at it, it scalded his tongue, so he was forced to blow at it instead. The four of them sat at a small diner. Files were strewn everywhere, the three talking amongst themselves. Lovino felt so out of place here. If he were Feliciano, he would know what to do. He would have seen countless other cases, he would have Alfred on the other end, he would be able to pick out what looked weird or what to further investigate. All Lovino knew how to do was ask stupid questions, it seemed.

He wasn't being fair to himself. He had never been put in one of these situations; people didn't just become great at things because the pressure was on. Fuck, how he wished they did. What  _did_ he have to offer?

He stooped into his coffee.

Great question.

Putting down his cup he got up from the booth. No one asked where he was going.

Stepping out into the early morning he took a deep breath. His head attempted to straighten itself, but everything seemed irrelevant, paling in comparison to the disappearance of his best friend. Antonio had called in and made sure that he wasn't somewhere at the gas station, truck, or motel. Lovino was truly grateful for the Detective.

Feliciano had suspected his partner, though. Antonio had given Lovino a pretty explanation, saying that they had been moved to investigating the missing persons. Still, maybe there was something that Feliciano knew that Lovino didn't.

In that moment, Lovino decided to be useful. He was sick of sitting around, damn it. Feliciano was missing, and he wasn't getting any closer talking over files. Well, they might've been, but he wasn't.

The diner was a good walk away from the police station, but it would simply give Lovino time to set his swirling plan into foundation.

* * *

"Vargas," Lovino said directly. "I'm working with Detective Carriedo on the missing persons cases. I need to see his partner, Detective Oxenstierna."

"Yes, I remember you," the woman from behind the counter said. "Oxenstierna isn't meeting with visitors right now."

"It's about the case," Lovino milled. He didn't know how to go about this, but he did know how to wing it. "It's  _very_  important."

She nodded. "I will notify him right away."

And she did. And when the tall blond with glasses came in through the door Lovino couldn't stop his heart from over exerting itself. He felt like a child waiting for a punishment. Only said punishment was prison and fuck he was being stupid.

Still, he set his gaze forward and crossed his arms.

The tall man came to settle in front of him. "Mr.  _Vargas_ ," he ground.

Lovino allowed a small smile. "Don't humor me," he shot back. "My friend's gone missing and I have a feeling that you have something to do with it."

The man was taken aback, but it wasn't long before his face hardened again. "Your friend being?"

"Feliciano Varmint."

"Ah, yes." Berwald said stiffly. "I thought I recognized you."

Lovino crushed his thumb, the sharp pain helping him keep cool. "I have a few questions for you."

"May I see your badge?"

Lovino's smile grew. "What badge?" He had made sure not to bring it in with him, hoping that the woman would remember him.

"ID?"

He shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint."

He was obviously growing frustrated. Lovino had to do something before he turned and left him in the lobby. "I have information for the case," he promised quickly. "I believe that this case may tie into the Rodriguez disappearance."

"What?" Berwald demanded. "That's impossible. The kid has been questioned by the best child psychologist we could offer. There was nothing about a trafficking rink."

"Then what was the story?"

"He was taken by a trucker." Berwald droned. "Which, if I'm not mistaken, is the profession Mr. Varmint has taken up these days."

"I might even think that you have a crush on the poor kid," Lovino mocked. "That story is shit."

"Do you have proof?" Berwald almost snapped. Lovino could see the red crawl up his neck and into his cheeks. Lovino took a deep breath. No, he didn't have proof. But, he had something of half a plan and a big mouth. Hopefully that would get him by long enough to interrogate Detective Oxenstierna himself.

"Yes."

* * *

Wow, how strange it was to be looking at the same liquid a mile away in a cheaper cup. Lovino sipped at his coffee, the metal table cold beneath his resting forearms. The door slammed open and Oxenstierna slumped into the room. He held the file Lovino had requested that he run off to receive. Taking a deep breath, Lovino readied himself.

"Here," Berwald growled, throwing the files down. His hair was disheveled and continuously fell to rest on the rim of the glasses he incessantly pushed back up the bridge of his nose.

Lovino thumbed them open. His heart jumped and pattered, but he did everything he could to keep a cool façade. In front of him were pictures of Gabriel. There were files of both before and after his disappearance. It was the ones of before that Lovino was looking for.

Taken by camera phone, whether by school administrator or by cop, Lovino didn't know. He didn't care, either. All he knew was that the images of bruised skin had become far too familiar in his mind. It came every time Lovino thought back to the dreams or the phantoms. Lovino knew for sure two things. Gabriel was being abused at home before he disappeared, and that it was a  _Hollow_  that had taken his place.

Maybe there was a coincidence somewhere here. Maybe a  _Hollow_  just happened onto a scene that had nothing to do with this trafficking rink. Lovino dreaded the thought, because it meant that the straws he was grasping at now were irrelevant. Still, it didn't keep his mouth shut.

Pushing an image of a bruised arm forward, Lovino put down his coffee. "He fell under the profile for these people. He was vulnerable."

"Lots of people are vulnerable," the other retorted sharply, slamming his hands onto the table. Lovino's heart skipped and he wondered briefly what was getting him so worked up. "What makes this case different?"

"Lots of people don't go missing, is what!" Lovino bit back, meeting the icy glare. "The newest girl, Natalie, had a sister that went missing. She was targeted for it. This boy had a rocky home life. He was targeted for it. There is a pattern between the two, and that's the fact that the police failed to help them." Lovino's job wasn't to convince this man. It was to get his question answered. "And Feliciano knew it. He got close to helping Natalie, and then he goes missing when you get on scene. That is a pattern as well."

"This is my case," Berwald's tone was low, "if your inferring that I had something to do with Mr. Varmint's disappearance—"

"Help me find him, then." Lovino cut in. He couldn't settle the fire in his muscles as he spoke. Everything screamed that he was doing something wrong. He quickly swigged at his coffee. This fire, this desperation, it was good. It would help him.

Because if he was right, if this Detective had something to do with anything, any notion with the rink or against Feliciano, then maybe Feliciano would be in danger. Maybe Lovino could peek at something that could help his case. Friends close, enemies closer. "I'm currently working with your partner, Carriedo," Lovino said easily, sitting back, pretending he had some trump card. He didn't. He was playing with colorful go-fish cards. But if no one saw his face, maybe he could pretend just long enough. "We're working on locating the branch that had been plaguing this area. If you have nothing to do with it, you'll help us find it."

He really hoped that his threat settled without him having to say it.

Oxenstierna looked like he was backed into a corner. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Lovino flashed a smile.

"Fine, I'll help you."

* * *

"Detective," Antonio stuttered when Lovino and Berwald made their way through the door. Lovino's heart had settled into something of a normal pattern, but he still couldn't sit comfortably. Gilbert and Ludwig looked up at Lovino with both confusion and a written-off sense of bother.

"Carriedo," Berwald said quaintly.

"He's here to help," Lovino said. Ludwig stood suddenly.

"A word."

Lovino followed, leaving Gilbert with the two police detectives as they ducked outside.

"What are you doing?" Ludwig demanded.

"I'm trying to help. I think that detective in there might have something to do with these disappearances. Feliciano thought so too, and now he's missing. I have no idea how to contact Alfred, but damn it I'm not going to let him run around without someone watching him."

"We have thirty-six hours left," Ludwig informed. "We don't have time to be catching new people up!"

"He was already working on the case. He knows what's happening. He had access to the exact files you have on the table in there! Fuck, he had access to all the files you could need."

Ludwig balled his fist before taking a hand down his mouth, frustrated. "Fine. But we don't have much longer to be researching."

"Fine, yeah, I don't care. What have you guys figured out?"

Ludwig shook his head. "Nothing," he admitted with a groan. "There doesn't seem to be much of a pattern with the victims. It's random."

"I don't think it is," Lovino said. "Get me a list of the names, please, I'll be back as soon as possible."

"Where are you going?" Ludwig demanded.

He sighed. "I'm going to try and find a way to contact a Mr. Alfred Jones."

* * *

"You're back?" the woman was trying to be respectful, but Lovino could see the annoyed twitch at the side of her mouth. He tried to offer her a warm smile.

"Yeah, uh, sorry about that," he sputtered. "One last thing; promise."

Walking out of the police station, Lovino blew up his cheeks. Nothing. She couldn't find any contact information on Jones. It didn't help that Lovino didn't know when he retired or which state he had retired from, either. He just had a name and a rough "trust me, he's kinda a bitch" character description.

Lacing his fingers behind his head he closed his eyes. If Feliciano knew that he was in danger, he would have left his phone somewhere, wouldn't he of? Shaking his head, Lovino broke into a quick jog. The truck was sitting idle. Maybe there was something in there.

Nope.

Lovino groaned, slamming the door shut. He quickly pulled out his own phone, trying his damndest to send Feliciano some mental "get on your fucking phone" vibe. He could try calling it, but damn it he had seen the newest cop-based blockbuster horror. Feliciano could very well be safe-ish, and calling him could tear that away and put him in actual danger.

Lovino walked up to the caution tape. There were a considerable amount of people bustling around, but Lovino knew better than to think them all cops. He looked desperately for a uniform.

"Hello, uh, ma'am?" he said cautiously.

She looked up at him, looked down at the camera she was currently controlling, before looking up again. "Yes, sir."

"Has there been a phone found anywhere around here? I'm staying in that truck over there and I think that I might have dropped it last night."

"You were here last night?"

"Yeah, I came in for coffee." It wasn't a lie. He really didn't have time to be interrogated right now.

She nodded, picking up her supplies and walking over to a man. Their conversation was short, but she was back quickly. "I'm sorry, no phone."

Lovino nodded his head and offered her a small smile. "Alright, thanks."

Fuck, how was he going to contact Alfred if he didn't have his number or Feliciano's phone. He might as well go back.

Pulling out his phone, he extended his hand for more straws.

"Hello?" a tired voice drawled on the other end.

"Hello," Lovino said timidly. "Professor Varmint?"

"Yes?" he sighed.

"Hello, sorry for calling you so early—" and for calling seventeen times in a row—"but I'm a friend of your son's and I really need to contact one of your friends. Uh, Alfred Jones?"

There was a long pause. "What trouble has he gotten into now."

Lovino chuckled. "I don't think you want to know."

There was a shuffling. "And what was your name?"

"Lovino, I—I work with Feliciano."

"Ah, yes, he's told us about you."

Lovino held back an awkward smile. Of course, the kid had.

"I can't promise that this contact information will work."

"Anything, sir; anything at all."

* * *

Lovino checked his phone for the millionth time as he re-entered the diner. The group was packing up quickly. "What's going on?" Lovino asked.

"We have a lead," Carriedo shared excitedly.

"Really? Shifting through paperwork actually helped?"

"Here," Ludwig muttered, pressing a note into his hand. "I really hope you have something planned."

So, shifting through paperwork must have not helped as much as Carriedo let on. Berwald eyed him suspiciously as he pocketed the list of names. His phone was hot in his hands as he followed the group out.

Despite Lovino hating it, Carriedo and Oxenstierna took a car separate from him and the two blonds. He watched it like a hawk. He didn't trust the blond detective. Despite that, he quickly looked over the names.

Quickly googling them, he found little aside from Facebook pages and those weird stalker pages claiming that they could find the addresses and contact information of anyone for a small price.

"So where are we going?" Lovino asked.

"An abandoned storage warehouse a few miles out," Gilbert groaned.

"That didn't sound too convincing," Lovino strung.

"No, it doesn't." Ludwig continued. He had the window open, air fluttering through the car cacophonously.

"Does the information not back it up?" The two blonds were quiet for a long while. Lovino knew they both had a clicking clock in their minds. "What happens if you don't meet the goal?" Lovino asked quietly. "If you can't figure it out in time?"

Ludwig just turned further towards the open window.

"They take you to trial," Gilbert shared. "If They decide that someone isn't worthy of working the job, then said someone is fired."

So their jobs were at stake. It made sense why they were so tense.

"Yeah," Ludwig added without humor. "And as far as They're concerned, if one isn't worthy of the job they're not worthy of living with the knowledge."

Fuck.

Lovino set his forehead against the cool glass. So if they failed, not only was Feliciano's life at stake, so was the Belischmidts'.

"Who," Lovino continued, trying to convince himself of his own certainty, "pitched the idea of the warehouse?"

"Detective Oxenstierna."

Lovino checked his phone. Nothing.

Fuck.

 _I'm sorry, Feliciano._  He thought quietly.

"Pull over."

" _What_?" Ludwig demanded.

"Pull over!" Lovino said, putting as much gusto behind his tone as possible. "Let them lose us."

"Why?"

"Just—I have a feeling that Detective Oxenstierna is working with the rink. If I'm right, then we need to give him time away from us. I—I had a vision a while back. He shot Feliciano in the head. I watched the kid die, okay? Just—give him enough time away from us. Let him feel like he lost us! I—If we can—"

"Then you might have another vision," Ludwig said, nodding his head.

Lovino could see Gilbert's smirk in the mirror. "And then we might be able to locate these guys. Awesome."

Lovino clicked on his phone again. The text message he had sent to Alfred shone in his face, unanswered. He really hoped he was right and that he wasn't risking Feliciano's life for nothing.

* * *

It came with a strange pulsating of his bones. A light chime. Lovino jumped to his phone, heart in his throat.

Yes, yes, yes, it had been right! The bitch ass retired detective responded! Lovino read over the response quickly. He shook his head.

Fuck it.

Quickly, he clicked the small phone icon and pressed the speaker to his ear.

"Hello?" the man drawled.

"Feliciano's in trouble. I don't have time to explain everything. And, no, I can't fax anything right now. I don't have anything to fucking fax. Just listen to me." There was a small sound as if he was going to respond, but Lovino cut him off. "The list of people that I sent you, how many of them had a history with the police before they disappeared?"

"I already told you," Alfred said, "it doesn't look like any of them did."

"That's not right! I know for a fact Natalie did. Her older sister went missing; the case went unsolved. Try again. Can you look them up by surname, see what relations they had. That Rodriguez kid, I think he was a part of this. The police were working with the school to get him into foster care before he disappeared. Please be a bit more diligent with this."

"Talk slower," Alfred demanded.

"I—We don't have time, Alfred!" Lovino screamed into the receiver.

There was a list of grumbling. "Fine." Alfred groaned, "but I'm putting my ass on the line to get you this information."

"So what?" Lovino demanded.

"Don't be a fucking brat," Alfred shot back.

Lovino growled, tapping his heel with every step along the pacing journey. Ludwig watched him carefully. Gilbert sat in the disaster he had made trying to find his journal. After what felt like years, Alfred's voice was back on the line.

"Okay, the first name you sent me—Sadik, it looks like he had a cousin who was recently put away for homicide."

"That doesn't fit," Lovino clicked. "Unless it was set up or—ugh, try the next one!"

"What are you trying to prove?" Ludwig demanded.

"Shut." Lovino barked at him, putting his hand up.

Ludwig looked like he was ready to stride forward and punch him. Gilbert cleared his throat.

"Carlos Machardo," Alfred sighed. "A car crash took his sisters life last fall."

"Please tell me it was a hit and run."

He could imagine Feliciano telling him that he sounded like a sociopath, but he didn't give a fuck.

"No, it doesn't say anything about that." Alfred said.

"Okay, okay  _fine_. We'll work with this. Just—run the rest of the names, please. Try to find a pattern. Also, you can track Feliciano's phone, right?"

"Yes."

"Where is it."

Another long pause. He read off the address, and Ludwig pressed it into GPS.

"The police station?" Ludwig asked curiously.

"What?" Lovino demanded.

"The address. It's the police station."

"Anything else?" Alfred asked.

"No." Lovino hung up quickly.

Fuck, had he made a mistake? There was still not vision! "Fuck," he said allowed, his pacing quickening. "It the phone is at the police station, that means that Oxenstierna may very well already have Feliciano in his fucking grasps!"

"Well then I guess we've better get a move on."

"No," Gilbert said. "Feliciano won't be at the station. Maybe the warehouse is where Feliciano is. It could have been set up to be a trap."

"I don't know, it doesn't sound right." Ludwig said.

"No, it doesn't," Lovino agreed. What did he know! He was just winging it up to this point. Fuck, why had they let him come up with any of the planning? He didn't know what he was doing.

"Any visions?" Ludwig asked.

"Obviously not!" Lovino screamed at him. He could walk holes into the floor, but it wouldn't help his situation.

"Twenty hours, you guys," Gilbert reminded helpfully.

Everyone fell silent.

Dropping to one of the beds, Lovino put his head in his hands. Desperation, helplessness, they were all very familiar.

But there was something along side it. Something that screamed that this couldn't be happening.

He couldn't keep it back. He cried into his hand.

He was  _not_  going into denial. He was  _not_  going to fucking accept this.

He was not going to grieve Feliciano's lose until he had Oxenstierna's head on a fucking staff.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Shit is going down next chapter, guys. Sorry about this being so long (storywise, not chapter). I got kinda excited because we are finally wrapping up the murder mystery, but at the same time it simply weaves into this whole Chaos thing, and I don't want to give any spoilers, but let's just say one young Alfred and one budding-demi-God Lovino come together to fight a lot more than you could ever imagine. ALSO: Feliciano is going through a lot right now, guys, and if you don't think he's going to be dropping hella hints to try and make Lovino understand then you are wrong. Keep your eyes peeled for some AtBash! (I thought about splitting the POV, but since we have already gone 14 chapters in Lovino's I decided to just keep it that way.)_


	15. Quinze

"Slow down," Lovino was not sure whether his voice was lost in his head. It echoed, ricocheting, causing his body to tremble. "Plans must be made first. Mindless bloodshed will advance nothing."

"Sitting around," he responded to himself. The whole world felt irrelevant. He forgot who he was with, the feeling of the wall against his shoulder blades. "Sitting around is useless."

"I do not even know where Feliciano is."

"He may be gone forever." His voice. One. The same. Different. The sound was the same, the feeling behind each line different.

"Kill Berwald Oxenstierna!"

"Plan!"

"Gone."

And then, somewhere far away, in the center of his chest, turning and churning and wishing to be released, was a single sound. He couldn't recognize what he was trying to say—was he speaking? If he wasn't who was? No one. He was. Then why was there a lost thought a million miles away from the bickering emotions above, jumping and bounding against his skull.

"I know what I want."

"I do not know how to get it."

He could try. He could run around and pretend.

"Follow the derelict."

"Impossible."

Impossible; nothing was impossible. He needed to find Oxenstierna. If he could, everything would solve itself. Oxenstierna held the key to his misery. If he was no longer around, nothing would be the matter. If he would disappear everything would be alright. Lovino could put everything behind him.

"Oxenstierna is following me. He is the reason that everything is going wrong. He is the one that must be sacrificed for solitude!"

"He killed the kid."

"He's taken Feliciano."

"He is the one behind my weaknesses. Without him"

**"I will be strong."**

* * *

"Let him go!" Someone screamed from behind the cracking of the hinges.

His body was aflame, but he did not wish to scream. Aside from the swirling in his chest, was calm. It was his hands that guided him, though he wasn't exactly sure where they were guiding him to. His head babbled and blabbed, a brook hanging invisible ink around his skin, black. Only he could see it. It numbed the breeze and the heat and the sun.

 _Find me_.

He grinned. He was so close. He knew that he was close. He had a clear goal—a clear vision. He knew who the killer was. He was only playing executioner. Someone else played judge. Why else would they send Gabriel? Why else would they follow him, why else would he know so little, so much, why else would he be so confident and so ready and on such a wonderfully set path against the burning sidewalk? He would not grieve Feliciano because he would find him. He would not grieve Gabriel because he cared not for the kid. He would find the killer and he would set the score.

All he needed was a location. Oxenstierna would have left a trail. Everyone left trails. His was made of paperwork and vexed opinions. What would Oxenstierna's be made from? He was a police officer, so there was paperwork. Maybe Alfred could figure it out. He didn't have time for the fool's games. But, no, it wouldn't be documented here. Perhaps it would, but Ludwig and Gilbert could find it then. He would find it another way. How? How? How did one find a trail of a man that didn't wish to be found? Paperwork and opinions. Opinions were kept on the tongue.

He was never good at talking to people. That was Feliciano's job. He would have to try.

It was at the entrance to the police station that he paused. Something didn't feel right. Shaking his head, Lovino looked down at his hands. Maybe it was just his imagination—it had to be—but he felt like his skin had taken a darker tint. It was fleeting. A wisp of smoke dragging across his palms.

He took a ragged breath. He needed to calm down. Despite himself his pulse was anxiously pulling and pushing against his veins, an ocean of ambition and despair. If he smoked right now would be the perfect time to pull one out. Instead he continued inside.

A loud commotion came to life. A woman struggled against an armed guard.

"Let me go! You can't keep me!" she screamed.

Lovino stepped back towards the door, watching with wide eyes as she fought and squirmed. The guard held onto her wrists, losing his grip once or twice and tangling his fingers with her long brown hair.

"You—" he tried, motioning to the lady at the counter for help, despite her already on the phone for backup. "Stop, you are under arrest."

"You can't arrest me!"

She was so angry. Lovino could recognize it in pretty features turned fierce. Her makeup wrinkled and creased, her demeanor sneered and turned ugly.

Lovino swallowed. He could feel her emotions from across the room. They were powerful. He was afraid to step forward and confront them. On the other hand, the one he ignored and tried to blink away, he was thrilled.

"Officer Vargas," he said quickly, falling forward to help. He didn't bring his badge. Something inside him lifted and laughed, rolling with excitement.

He and the armed guard together were a force powerful enough to detain the woman. Cuffs latched tighter than needed, the two of them worked her into the back.

A few desks that Lovino had seen when Oxenstierna had brought him back hours before had been rendered emptied of life, paperwork sprawled, a gun left in from of one of the laptops set proudly on splintering oak.

"Where is everyone?" Lovino asked. They quickly filtered the girl into the small, 15-person holding cell in the back.

"Big drug break," the officer shared. "There's a hostage situation and it looks like SWAT is going to be called in." The man never fully turned his attention to Lovino, locking the gate and immediately picking up his radio. He went over what Lovino could only imagine to be customary, glancing at the woman, Lovino, before walking over to a desk and plucking a pen from his breast pocket. "Yes, sir. I will be there right away." He wrote something down before turning to Lovino. "All hands are needed at the site."

Could Feliciano be there? "I'm only working with—uh you guys for the—uh trafficking case. I actually am very busy. Came to—uh—do the—uh—"

The man was already walking away. He was talking into his radio again.

Lovino was left alone with the crazy woman in the cell.

"Let me out!" She demanded.

Lovino turned to her. She had calmed down slightly. Slightly. She still struggled against the restraints and pressed herself against the bars. "You can't hold me without evidence!"

"What were you brought in for?" Lovino asked.

"Absolutely nothing!" She screamed. Lovino didn't have time for this. He was alone, which means that he could find which desk belonged to Oxenstierna. He could maybe find a contact; find someone that might know where he is. Whether they knew it or not.

He turned away from the screaming bafoon. His attention was in front of him. Paperwork, that would indicate which desk he was looking for? Should he pocket the left gun? His heart tremored with exhilaration.

"Prostitution—" the word faltered in the air from behind him. She had gotten quieter since he started shuffling through messy documents. Turning, Lovino set her with a stare.

He clothes were revealing, sure, but nothing more than normal for a hot day. Her makeup was thick, okay, but beauty trends were harder to catch than a kid on Halloween. Prostitution was illegal, and if the officer that brought her in was honest, maybe she had given a reason.

He didn't have time for this.

She took his attention for advantage and continued talking. "You have no right to hold me on such claims! It's embarrassing, and if it goes onto my record I'll be unable to get a respectable job!"

Lovino turned away from her again but offered a simple response. "Sounds like a personal problem."

Rattling against the bars. "You have to let me out of here!"

"No, I don't."

"What is you badge number! I'll report you! I'll-!"

Lovino smirked into another useless page. Swirling and kissing was her energy. "I'm not a cop," he practically laughed. Why did he feel like he had already won? He should be grasping for that feeling of fear that he walked into the door with, but the longer that he stood in her presence the more he felt like he could jump and spin and come out victorious.

In his moment of sanity, he played through a list of cons. What could go wrong. Where he had already gone wrong. The woman in the front probably wondering where he was. Everything, everything, but none of it dismissed the joy that came from the woman's next words.

"I heard you! You said that you were a cop!"

"Lied," he sighed.

"I will report you for that if you don't let me out, then!"

He turned to her slightly. "That would be jail break. Imagine that on your record."

She was beautiful, he decided, stealing away her appearance greedily. He wouldn't have to try much, if she was what she claimed she wasn't. He could have her.

He closed his eyes.

No, that was the exact thought that had started his last relationship. Fuck, she was a crazy bitch.

Fun, though.

He didn't have time for this.

"I don't care!" She was getting more desperate. Every second her body trembled a little more. Beyond the anger Lovino recognized the fear.

He smiled. "You'll be in trouble, won't you, if I don't let you out."

Her words seemed to catch somewhere in her chest. Her brown eyes played a symphony of terror.

"A real-life prostitute," Lovino sung, balancing his hip on the desk and throwing down the papers.

"What do you want?" she begged.

"Nothing that you could offer me." Lovino shrugged.

"I could—"

"Don't," he dismissed. She was boring when she wasn't screaming.

"Drugs, I could offer you a hit. What's your poison?"

What was his poison? He had never considered it. He really should try something. Just for the experience.

He shook his head. He needed to stop getting side-tracked.

"Tell me," he finally said, his front teeth teasing the swollen skin around his nail. "Do you ever get new girls?"

"Are you looking for a type? Because I could hook you—"

"No, no, nothing like that." If she was on the street, maybe she had heard something or another about the trafficking rink. Maybe she was the only informant that he needed. "There's been people going missing around this and surrounding towns. Maybe you know something about it?"

She shook her head. Anger caressed his muscles with a single word on his tongue: "Useless."

"I—I know someone who might know, though!" She was a quick one. He could appreciate that. "My boss. She—she may know something. But she'll think you're a cop."

Lovino had the keys in his hand and in the lock before she could properly remove herself from the bars. Grabbing her bicep roughly, he practically cooed: "take me to her."

* * *

"Lien," the name sat in the air for a long, long minute. The fear that radiated off the brunette under his control was intoxicating. It filled him. Maybe this was what he was missing. Fun. He could name despair and hopelessness, and now he had the extravagance that was dominance.

The gun against her head was only for show, of course.

"Boss," she stammered. Lovino tightened his grip. She gasped with pain. "Please, hurry!"

They were catered to. Talking to people was much easier than he remembered. Maybe he didn't need Feliciano after all. It was a lot more fun without him.

Guilt. He brushed it aside.

A pair of pretty combat boots trekked across the tiled floor. A grand staircase of the old house stood behind her. She crossed her arms over a brilliantly developed chest, the jean jacket on her arms ruffling. Lovino couldn't read her. Set eyes and tight lips.

He wondered briefly if he could have her, too.

"Where are you getting your women?" He demanded.

"My what?"

"Your workers."

She quirked an eyebrow, moving her head just enough that her shoulder-length hair brushed against her outfit. " They come to me. I do not  _get_  them."

Perhaps if he turned his gun from the trembling woman under his fingertips to the boss maybe her demeanor would crack. He decided that he wanted that. To see her crack; her desperation and fear. To take away the disobedience in her pupils.

"What is your name?" he demanded.

"Doesn't matter," her voice was as hard as her eyes.

"I have your worker at gun point, I wouldn't take to such petty responses."

Lian cried out pleadingly. The blond only turned up her chin. "It's information you want?"

"Yes."

"On what?"

"The recent disappearances."

Her lips curled into a sneer. "You think I'm working with scum and kidnapping people to work for me?"

"I think that there's more to human trafficking than girls chained to basements." He bit back at her. He didn't know much about human trafficking, if he was being honest, but he knew that this wasn't some movie. Sure, there was probably someone kidnapping boys and girls and playing out Hollywood's slash fiction, but it was more likely that, with these  _Hollows_  they were being cajoled out of their livelihoods and passed around. Did they get to keep their desires? If he hadn't gotten Natalie killed, would she have been allowed to keep her sister?

That was quite a fucking deal, wasn't it? A little sex for a lost loved one.

She almost looked like she was going to ask him to leave. He could have laughed. Lian gasped under the weight of the barrel. "I'm not who you're looking for."

"No, you're not," he agreed. "I'm looking for a man by the name of Berwald Oxenstierna."

She took a long moment. Her poker face never wavering. "The cop?"

"Yes. I'm sure you've been in contact with him?"

"What do you want him for?"

He shrugged, clicking his tongue. "Not much."

She was taking too long. He was growing bored. He didn't have time. What was his goal again? Kill Oxenstierna. Why? Set the score. For who? Ah, fuck, what did all that matter. Devil was in the details, and Lovino was a saint. He'd stick to the interesting bits.

"Everyone," he screamed, addressing the men and woman of the underground brothel. They stilled, all fully attentive from the moment he had walked in. He had to admit, having an audience was thrilling. "Out. Now."

Isolating prey was more so, though.

The blond in front of him gulped, for the first time breaking her stoney features. It wasn't for long, though, and she watched with a cold stare as everyone filtered out the door. Lovino's eyes flicked up the staircase.

"Three seconds or else I shoot the girl."

Someone came out from behind the wall, limbs shaking as he nodded his head and lowered his head, trying to disappear from the glare Lovino sent him. Quickly he fell down each step and closed the door behind him.

Lovino took very little time to establish his time crunch.

Lian's cries were short as she crumpled against the floor, the offending gun falling with her.

Lovino shrugged with a grin. "Pretty sure it's not even loaded," he laughed.

"What do you want?" the blond repeated.

"I want to know where Berwald Oxenstierna is!" he screamed. Irritation flared like a bad infection.

"I don't know where he is!" she yelled back.

He needed to break her. He needed her to talk. He didn't have time for this. Balance, that was his job. He needed to set it in stone, the score, the justice, he needed to find the kid and even out the weight—but he needed to find the fucking scale first. Blood, that's what it weighed. No silly copper pieces. Blood. He needed blood. Maybe he could use hers.

He had no time to consider the wisping smoke that darkened his palms. He had no need for the fear that pricked when he considered himself. He had no interest in the idea that maybe she didn't know, that maybe she was innocent. All he wanted was blood.

It was becoming irrelevant whose.

"Tell me!" he screamed in her face, cupping her face. "Tell me where Oxenstierna is!"

The euphoria that filtered through his body as her desperation spiked and floated just beneath his skin caused everything in his mind to go numb. Her pretty features twisted ugly with fear and helplessness and desperation and things that Lovino was never happier to identify. The darkness within her grew, fueled by Lovino's fingertips. Her skin blistered, cracking her skin like porcline. He watched as she stammered, blue eyes going red, bloodshot. No longer did disobedience on her porcine features survive. She was at his mercy.

He loved it.

But loving things did not get people information. "Where is he!" Lovino screamed again.

The smoke from the budding burns on her face filtered into the air. He stared into her drowning irises. He could see past them.

A warehouse. He didn't know where. A young girl held tight to a blond boy's hand, her other arm wrapped around a skewed bear. He could feel the fear and intimidation that came from the girl, but he could also feel the comfort of the strong hand. It put everything else to rest.

There were no words, there was no indication, but Lovino knew what he was seeing.

He smiled.

"Where did your brother take you the first time you saw him after he died?"

Suddenly he was wrenched away from the girl. She crashed to the floor, pretty features ruined, tears trying to revive deadened eyes as she whimpered and cried. Lovino turned around briskly.

Ludwig stood there, something of anger on his features. And then he didn't stand there, because he was coming forward with his fist and clipping Lovino in the face. Lovino cried out in pain, stuttering backwards and grabbing his jaw.

"What was that for!" he demanded angrily.

"Stop what you're doing!" Ludwig replied dryly.

"I'm trying to find—"

"Stop. We can handle this."

Ludwig was trying to keep him from Oxenstierna. That much was clear. He had been trying to keep him away from his goal all along, hadn't he? He was the one who didn't want the detectives to help them. Why? Because he was working with them from afar? When Lovino had suggested to let them go, Ludwig hadn't put up a fight, had he? It was in his plans all along for Lovino to make stupid decisions. Lovino was never supposed to lead anything. Why would Ludwig let him? Why would he give him the names? If this really was something he could handle, then he would have just told Lovino no. He was working with Oxenstierna. That much was obvious now.

Lovino's breaths grew jagged as he strengthened, fixing Ludwig with a wide-eyed stare.

Ludwig was working with the enemy.

That made Ludwig the enemy.

All Lovino needed was blood.

Ludwig's fist had made contact first, but Lovino was determined to finish this fight as the victor. Stealing forward he hit with everything he had. This man was taller than him, in better shape than him, and his blue eyes held a determination that almost caused Lovino pause. He hit again, this time being blocked and pushed backwards.

Ludwig rained down on him with the fury of an innocent man. Lovino took advantage of this, angling his knuckles to skim, rather than hit, looking for quick bruises and blood. They danced around the fallen women.

Ludwig caught him with a powerful punch, one that caused his body to convulse and stammer. He coughed, keeling over. Ludwig followed up with a powerful knee. Lovino could taste the blood as it fell from his lips. Another knee, another punch to the side of his head.

Everything spun and turned in a white hot fury. Lovino cried out, cradling his head when Ludwig let him fall.

He could kill him! He wanted nothing but to. The pain in his body burned hotter than a million suns.

Ludwig stood above him. "You've lost." His tone was flat, as if he took no enjoyment from the situation. Lovino could laugh! If he wasn't going to win like a winner, then he didn't deserve it. Lovino could kill him. Would kill him.

"Ludwig," Gilbert said, the sliding of the front door joining them.

"I found him."

He turned his back! Ludwig turned his back on him! What a fool! He would kill him!

Gilbert stooped to the whimpering woman. "She's still alive," he said, though his tone was bothered by something of sympathy.

"Out-Out-Outside of-Just past-" she snimpered.

"What is that?" Gilbert said calmly.

"The warehouse," she cried desperately. "Just outside-past the abandoned-warehouse, past the old-camp. Past-drained-"

"Calm down, stay still." Gilbert ordered gently, running his hand gently along one of the vining burns. His whole body asked, but his lips were sealed to the question.

"She's talking about the abandoned camp about thirty miles out of town. There used to be a lake, but it's been drained, and the water sent to Nebraska."

It was the boy that had been hiding upstairs that shared this information. He stood in the doorway, fear etched across his face.

Lovino could laugh. With shaky arms, ignoring the pricking stars, he sat. "That's where we'll find Oxenstierna," he tittered into the tile.

Just beyond him sat the gun. He grinned at it. Everyone left a trail. Paperwork and people that couldn't keep their fucking mouths closed. He would kill Oxenstierna, but he wouldn't be arrested. All he needed was blood.

Stretching he grabbed the weapon. The springe-loaded trigger surely took barely any pressure to let off. Ludwig still had his back turned! What fun. He would kill him! He would! He would!

He let off the safety, cursing when the blond turned, wide-eyed. Fear!

He pressed the trigger, a satisfying click.

How anti-climactic. It really wasn't loaded. "Fuck me," Lovino growled, throwing the useless piece of metal aside.

"Did you just try to shoot me!" Ludwig screamed. Gilbert looked ready to fight.

Lovino was up for a round two, sure.

Standing he balled his fists and spit onto the ground. "Yeah, come at me," was about to be passed into the air, but his words were caught in his throat when suddenly he saw, just beyond Ludwig, the kid.

Only, that stupid little kid that was hiding behind a wall was anything but.

It was Feliciano.

His olive skin was filtered by the bright sun behind him. He stared at Lovino. Lovino's heart sunk.

No, no, he knew where Oxenstierna was. Feliciano wasn't in danger anymore. Lovino would kill him! It was written in whatever the fuck time was written in. Lovino couldn't change the future. He had gotten Natalie killed. So, that means Feliciano wasn't going to die. He was going to take Oxenstierna out and save the annoying fucking kid that talked too much.

That's not what the staring figure said. That's not what the active fire that pricked his limbs said. They mixed with the sun, turning the calm waters of the projection into something of an oil bath. Black and dying.

But the figure stared. Honey eyes desolate.

At least he wasn't being burned alive.

Ludwig stole a glance behind himself. "What are you looking at?" he demanded.

"Did—the—did you guys hear about the lake?"

"What lake?" Gilbert said, carefully.

His breaths were getting shorter in between. "I know where Feliciano is," he shared quickly. His body hurt when he moved, but he didn't care. Adreneline was sure to take away the aches long enough for him to save his friend. "I need you guys to take me there."

Ludwig stared at him, unbelieving. Of course he was. Lovino could scream. " _I'm sorry I tried to kill you can we go?_ " His words were as rushed as his footsteps.

As he was leaving, he had the opportunity to catch Gilbert's words, but he didn't. His mind was too far gone, thirty miles out of town next to a dried-up lake.

"So, Feliciano's life is put into danger right after he figures out the location?" Ludwig paused at his words.

"Are you saying—"

"Lovino could very likely be the one going to kill him."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Everyone_ begged _for a competent Lovino. Are you guys happy? Honestly, the battle that happens a little later (not next chapter, but next chapter sets up for it—not like, set up as in it will be the chapter after next, but sets up plot-wise for it to work) is my favorite scene out of this whole story, and I haven't even written it yet._

 _I also have to apologize. I know absolutely nothing about supernatural creatures. I've done little to no research, I made up whatever-the-fuck a_ Hollow  _is, and Lovino's descent into his powers is honestly a descent into madness. It does, however, hold some background, because the little research I did do will explain why he's talking to himself like that. I think I'll have Arthur explain it, though._

_Also, I'm not sure if it matters, but the female characters in this chapter were Vietnam (Lian) and Belgium (le boss). Michelle from earlier chapters is Seychelles, Natalie is Belarus (her sister Ukraine), and of course Elizaveta is Hungary. I don't own enough fucks to tell you which human names I'm using when I use them, so idk load the gun and take aim._

_COMMENT! Do you think Lovino is the one putting Feliciano in danger?_


	16. Seize

Lovino writhed uncomfortably in his seat. Everything felt uncomfortable. He had to think, focus, but every time he allowed himself to stare out the window he would get lost in a sea of anger.

Taking a deep breath, he pictured the one thing that seemed to cover what he needed to do, and what he wanted to do.

If it had been Feliciano that gave him the information, then why the fuck had he shared the bit about the lake? Drained lake and camp ground, great, but why share the fact that the water was going to Nebraska? What was so god damn special about Nebraska?

He was on fire. What did that mean? Was someone going to light the warehouse on fire? He had already been dead, though, so perhaps they were just trying to hide the body.

Lovino shook his head at the irony. A frozen kid and a burning boy, what were the chances of that?

He found his head in his hands.

What was he doing? What the fuck was he doing? Why—fucking why did—fuck! What that fuck was happening? Why? How the fuck was he supposed to—gah!

He couldn't think properly. The car sped down the road, holed roads bouncing beneath him. A moment of relief came when he mentally realized that he could easily open the door and throw himself out.

He wanted to scream.

"Go faster!"

"Don't yell at me!" Gilbert bit back.

Lovino balled his fists. He needed to calm down. He needed—he fucking needed  _something_ —to get out of the vehicle, to run, to bound, to win. He needed to win. To kill Oxenstierna; to find Feliciano; to break away from the confines of the backseat of the fucking blonds' god fucking damn rented fucking fucked up fucking car, damn it.

Thirty miles, an infinite number of hours. The car slowed to a stop. Lovino felt as if he were drowning. Throwing the door open, he practically fell into the dried grass and weeds of the off-the-road path.

His anguish disappeared when the breeze kissed his cheeks, trekking across his face and arms and warming him with a ruthless Arizonian sun. The smell of blood, sweet, was apparent.

Lovino took a deep breath.

He could get used to this. Strong copper of others mixing with the taste of his own. He almost yearned for a hint of smoke. The thought of the blond woman with ruined features and blinded eyes came to him. He was powerful then with determination, and in this moment, he was powerful within contentment.

And anger. But he was finding that to be a common denominator.

He needed to find Feliciano, because there he would find Oxenstierna.

It wasn't far from where they came in that Lovino, Ludwig, and Gilbert were met with a sight that none of them would ever forget. They piled like bricks to a foundationless castle. Lovino looked upon them with fascination. There were handfuls, slit throats and wrists and bludgeoned wounds and, as far as he could see, not a single automated piercing.

It was his teeth that kept back a smile. He would later sob into his conscious, but right now that was irrelevant.

Ludwig coughed into his hand, Gilbert keeled and hurled right then and there.

"How long do you think they've been here?" Ludwig asked desperately, never ceasing the cover of his nose. Decay was a delicacy that Lovino couldn't remember studying. Sweeter than sugar, more intoxicating than sex.

"Different times for different people," Lovino decided.

"Who cares?" Gilbert choked. His hand covered practically his whole face, one hand still clasped against his knee. "Let's just get out of here."

And, so, they pushed forward. Lovino treated this like a march. He held no particular emotion here; curious, really. He could feel something beyond reach—a deadened sense of petrificated trepidation. They side-stepped this particular pile of bodies, falling into another brush of thin-branched, heavily vined and rough-barked trees, but there was a moment that they were close enough for Lovino to catch how the sun so beautifully reddened the skins, melting and harsh. Swollen, teased skin, touched by a lover.

"Stop," Gilbert hissed, falling backwards. Lovino couldn't see past the thick brown brush that was dying leaves, killed by the drought.

"What is it?" Ludwig asked, taking to a crouched position.

"I hear someone, I think."

"Think it's the killer?" Lovino chimed in, eager. He stared forward, straining his ears to try and find some sign of life.

They stewed in a long moment of silence. Breezes and shuffling leaves, a chatter or caw of the wildlife, but nothing of humanly intrigued. Lovino was growing impatient.

"Come on out if you're there!" Lovino screamed, cupping his hands around his mouth, hoping to amplify the sound.

"What are you doing?" Ludwig demanded.

Lovino offered him a condensending smile. "We're not here to play hide-and-seek. We're here to kill Oxenstierna."

"We're  _here to arrest him_." Ludwig pointedly drew out. "Our policy is  _not_  to kill."

Lovino dismissed him with a roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand. Boring. "Yeah, yeah, well not going to get there hiding in the bushes."

Ludwig threw a finger behind him, anger or frustration or perhaps misconstrued fear, Lovino didn't care enough to analyze. "Did you not see that mass grave?" he demanded. "This is  _not_  a game!"

"Both of you," Gilbert barked under his breath, "both of you need to fucking calm down."

"He—"

Gilbert turned onto the taller of the two of them, eyes gleaming darkly. "Listen here, Ludwig, we don't have time for you two to get into a fight. Kill him when we're done, but, like you said:  _this isn't a game_."

Lovino smirked. That certainly shut him up.

"What is that?" Gilbert muttered, turning back, leaving Ludwig to sulk like a fucking child.

"What?"

Lovino could feel it before he could smell it. It sparked like electricity, calling to him, beaconing him to move, to rise. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He could see it. Leaves curling into smirks, needles popping, bodies burning—orange and green and black smoke that would warp and dance in the air.

"Fire."

And then, amidst the beauty, he saw Feliciano. The spark from earlier, the one that hid behind his ribs, quaked and wriggled like a disobedient child.

_Kill, plan, fear._

Lovino opened his eyes just in time to see the flames take over the bushes in front of him. Gilbert and Ludwig shot back, Gilbert crying out and putting up his arms to block from the sudden paroxysm of heat.

Feliciano was still alive. He had to be.

Lovino pushed passed the blonds with a growl. He had no time for bickering!

He wouldn't let the pain stop him. His clothes caught and ran with the system; the spikes of oxidized energy ate away at his skin. Lovino hissed, patting himself out. The flames were at his feet. He was stuck in an inferno. Hell. Turning around slowly, he tried to locate the warehouse. What if Feliciano had gotten away and was running through the trees? He groaned. He would leave that thought to the blonds.  _He_  needed to find the warehouse!

Follow the smoke, then. Sucking down a deep breath, wiping away the moisture on his cheeks brought upon by the burns, Lovino jumped through another spiraling ring of snaps and smoldering suffocation.

A branch broke and fell, falling and smashing into Lovino, a hot coal. "Fuck!" he screamed, falling to a knee and cradling his arm. He didn't have time! With a scream he stood. "Where are you!" he howled. No response. "Of course not!" he screamed with laughter. "You're a coward!"

His feet took him further and further, black smoke now filtering through the in-betweens. The smell of burning flesh was overwhelming, even for Lovino. He coughed and sputtered, covering his face, trying to hold his arm with the other hand, ignoring the impossible pain in his thigh. He would get through this. "Adrenaline," he chortled, "adrenaline!"

This pile was smaller than the last. Lovino's head twisted and dipped. Had this all been a trap? Follow the bodies, see where they go. How many people had gone missing in the recent years? It was for trafficking, what use was it to kill them? Godly sacrifice?

How stupid.

Lovino was going to pass out if he didn't find his ability to breath—and soon. He stumbled forward, falling against a simmering tree and cursing his hands. "Come out!" he screamed again. "You're a fucking bastard hiding behind a fucking flame!"

Feliciano. There was a peace in death. Maybe when Feliciano died, Lovino wouldn't have to worry about protecting him. Was there an afterlife? He surely hoped not. This was e-fucking-nough. "Come on," Lovino screamed, this time at himself. He couldn't see. The smoke caused his tears to water, his nose to run, his throat to close. He couldn't breathe.

But, he could walk. So, he did that.

Kill Oxenstierna. The thought pushed him forward now. He had a goal. This, this was nothing. People survived worse than forest fires. He needed to set—he needed to—breathe, he needed to breathe.

Mercy always seems to find those least deserving of it. Lovino fell out of the tree-line, crawling away from the smoke and towards the large, falling building. He scrubbed his palms against the dried grass, heaving and coughing, mucus taking knifes all the way up and down Lovino's throat. He blinked a million and a half times, trying to regain his vision, but the tears stuck like the odors of a recently cut onion. He pulled his arm across his face, taunt skin screaming for him to calm down and stop. He couldn't. He had a goal.

He stood, every motion filling him with the black poison that drifted through his veins and filled his heart with the desire to destroy and kill. His breaths came in tidal waves, pulling and pushing and leaving him to glare at the building, accusing it of audacity to look at him like that.

The first step threatened to topple him, and he loved every ache and every pain because it brought on more frustration and his body  _loved it_. He loved it. Miles stood between him and this fucking warehouse. Miles. Miles. He trudged forward, keeping his breaths for oxygen though he wanted to laugh. He was going to kill Oxenstierna! He was going to win. To find Gabriel. He was, was, was, was.

"Come on out!" he screamed, slamming the door to the warehouse open. His voice echoed back at him; ricocheting.

Lovino couldn't keep it back this time. The blond detective stood among a sea of bodies. Lovino noticed that he didn't have his glasses on his face, and for some reason it infuriated him. Every time he had pictured this moment, he had imagined bringing the fucker to his knees, glasses and all.

"Oxenstierna." Lovino drew out the name deliciously, stumbling forward, his chest rising and falling and rising and falling with excitement. "Oxenstierna."

And then he was running. And then he was grinning. And then his knuckles, poised to bruise and bloody, was making contact. His foot, his fist, his knee. He would win! He would win!

Oxenstierna struggled, pushing back, screaming and crying and trying to use his height against Lovino. Lovino fed off his wonderfully embracive confusion and terror. He could feel the tar take to his skin; no longer a smoke. It protected his body, covered his burns, his points of weakness.

"I'll kill you!" Lovino cooed, pitch sharp. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

The desperation of the dead filled him with power. He could feel their dismay and sadness. Here, amongst a war field, Lovino was powerful.

Powerful! Nothing could stop him.

Oxenstierna fell, his knees hitting the concrete floor. Lovino grabbed his face. He watched as the man's desperate interior began to crack.

Blood! Kill Oxenstierna! Kill him! Settle the score! Settle!

"Lovino!" Someone cried from beside him.

Lovino wanted nothing more but to dip into the detective's soul, to find what made him tremble, to find what broke him from the inside out. He wanted nothing more but to put fire to those emotions. He wanted nothing more but to light the bit. Exhilarating!

"Lovino!" the voice was back. Only this time, it came with action. Oxenstierna fell, pushed out of the way. Lovino turned to the offender.

An enemy. Feliciano, too, had become the enemy! Was he working with Ludwig and Oxenstierna? He stood there, so defiantly. Lovino would kill him!

He threw his punch. Feliciano fell away from his vision. With raggid breaths Lovino turned back to the detective. Kill Oxenstierna!

Something grabbed his arm, black wrapping and expanding. "Lovino! Stop!" Feliciano cried.

Lovino turned and hit again. This nuisance! Kill! Kill!

The boy seemed to have suspected something to come from Lovino, because he dodged the attack. For a long moment the two fought, but Lovino was quicker, stronger!, and soon the boy was kneeling before him, head bowed to the ground.

Lovino's vision was back to the detective. He didn't have time for this!

The blond's face was ravished by burns already, his eyes shot, but Lovino knew he wasn't dead yet. He still breathed.

What a waste of oxygen.

But the boy was back. Lightly he tore at Lovino's back, crying out behind him. Lovino couldn't take it! He couldn't! This defiance—why did the kid insist of being an obstacle?

He would take the boy out first.

Tears and wide eyes met him when Lovino turned and cupped his face. The boy's lips quivered, and he gasped. Lovino stared into honey eyes, pulling and tearing at every piece of misery that he could encourage.

The boy's skin did not crack like the others' did. His eyes did not rein red around the irises and give to Lovino's command. Instead they pressed back, glowing into something purer than gold. The boy panted, and Lovino willed the blackness around his skin to seep and burn.

Behind amber eyes, Lovino saw what he was looking for.

A woman was screaming, a tall glass of depleting wine in her hand. Fear spun and morphed the image, causing the pretty woman to turn into something of a monster to the young boy staring up at the scene. Lovino didn't need anything more to know; the third copy of devoice papers sat on the table, the second bottle of wine, working first of jaeger.

And then the scene changed; a girl. She was young, curly hair pinned up in a side ponytail. She didn't look too happy in the photograph, but no one gave that any mind. Only Feliciano, teenage hand smoothing down the edges of the MISSING PERSONS poster. There was a deep helplessness eating his consciousness. He couldn't crack the case.

Suddenly, the world fell into darkness. Lovino watched as, through the darkness, a small object was thrown, shattering against the wall. It was followed by a fist, before the offender crumpled to the ground, curling into his knees and sobbing. A great sense of despair filled the scene. He had messed something up, and because of it he had forfeited the woman he loved. "Michelle!"

Light illuminated the world. Feliciano sat on his bed, hair strewn messily threw tight fingertips. He was lost. Lovino could feel the complete and utter lack of confidence. He knew this scene, dark bags and shaking shoulders; the boy's grandfather was dead.

Each scene came on more and more vivid, but Lovino still failed to make any progress! There was a recklessness in the boy that refused to bow to him! Foolish! With every scene of anguish, Feliciano matched it with another.

Clay painted hands, careful and skillful and small. There was an accomplishment here that seemed to push Lovino's intentions to shit. The same woman from earlier stood there, pride and happiness cooing in her face and her voice as she looked over the finished piece. Without hesitation she put it in the main living area. In the center of the mantle. Lovino knew it still stood there, only now repurposed, filled with ash.

Another stranger, only this time it came with animation. It came with subtle celebration; it came with justice. Feliciano put a glass to his lips, a tired smile pointed at the old man beside him. Lovino didn't need to know the story, it all came with the boy's satisfaction. It was the first case he had ever solved.

A breaking of song filtered through. Lovino tried to focus on the sadness that sat behind this vision, but he couldn't. He couldn't twist the man's sappy smile and gleaming brown eyes. A young boy, a teen, a young adult, all laughed and some sang along, dancing with the grandfather that seemed to be stuck in his prime, though his hair greyed slightly and the stubble on his chin grew out subtly.

With every memory Feliciano sent, of strength, of aspirations beyond his sadness, Lovino's power grew weaker. Feliciano had slowly snaked his hands up his face, grabbing Lovino's hands and interlacing their fingers. He gasped with pain when he did so, and Lovino could see another swirling memory, but Feliciano pushed him away from it. Instead, there was a flash. Lovino didn't need to study any of them. He remembered each and every one—he was in them all.

Laughing at a museum, screaming at a customer, claiming that he had rolled his eyes so hard he sprained a muscle, giggles and swirling and happiness.

Golden eyes slowly drained of their color, tears freely falling down flushed cheeks. Lovino saw for the first time the bruises, and when he looked down at his hands, he saw that his hands were no longer dipped with paint. However, he could see why the kid still cried and gasped. Fire, falling from Lovino's fingertips and into the kid's veins, bubbling and burning.

Lovino pulled away, but Feliciano held on. "Lovino," he cried, a stupid smile on his face.

The spark in Lovino's chest dawned and realized. Guilt. For the first time in his memory, he allowed himself to openly cry in front of company.

What had he done? What was he doing? The flames extinguished, Lovino settling into his own despair. He fell to his knees. Felicano fell with him, wrapping a tight embrace around the older male's neck. Lovino sobbed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded, his cries muffled by the boy's shoulder. "Why didn't you—you always!" He had been so sad. Sure, he matched them, but it didn't take away from the loneliness that Lovino still couldn't shake from his chest. Feliciano was just as weak as he was, if not moreso, but still he took the higher ground, whispering impossible nothings. "You could have told me! You didn't have—have to-!"

"It's alright, Lovino," he promised softly.

"No, it's not!"

And then the fuckface fucking chuckled. Lovino hated him, hated him so much all he wanted in this moment was to fucking protect him, damn it. "It is," he insisted. "With every ordeal of sadness, we're able to grow stronger as people."

No, no, that didn't make sense! If he was telling the truth, then there wouldn't have been  _so_  much pain behind it! "You're lying," he accused, balling his fists into his lap. "You're lying—if—if you were over it you wouldn't—there wouldn't-!"

Why was he still laughing! It was growing weaker, tireder, but it was still in Lovino's ear. "You're not supposed to get over it, Lovi," he confided, pulling away to look at him. Lovino's heart dropped. Tears, forming brushes, scrapes, blood. He had done it again. He had—fuck! The boy's honey eyes drooped and he looked so tired. Lovino would take everything back if he could. "You don't become numb to it. You grow from it, and you learn from it, and then you find a way to live with it. You balance it out with happiness and joy."

Lovino shook his head. He probably looked like a fucking child. Water-fucking-works. He didn't care. He refused to repent to this logic. "But—"

"Don't worry." Feliciano decided sternly.

How could he not? How could he sit here on the floor and not worry? How could he move past everything that has happened.

The smells of everything around him came in like a wave. Bodies surrounded them. No longer did Lovino feel that he gained anything from his location. All he felt was sick.

"Lovino! Feliciano!" Gilbert broke through the door, stalling as he took in the scene.

The two of them stood. Ludwig's eyes cried with suspicion when he took in the younger boy's appearance. "Are you alright?" he demanded.

Feliciano nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Ludwig took up the kid's hand, running a quick hand across the burn just beyond Feliciano's wrist. "How did—"

Feliciano hissed, pulling his hand back. "Listen," he said, an attempt of being nice on his face but teeth clenched, "if you think someone's hurt, you don't go  _touching the wound_."

"Right—Right, sorry," Ludwig stepped away from him nervously.

"So, this is the killer, huh?" Gilbert asked, stooping beside Oxenstierna. The man whimpered and cried. Feliciano was quick to the scene, falling to help the fallen detective. Gentle fingers traced just above the wounds, but he couldn't do anything to help them. Lovino hated himself.

"No," Feliciano muttered.

"What?" Gilbert asked.

"Detective Berwald isn't the killer." The boy's refreshed tears spoke of a new desperation.

"What?" Ludwig demanded, sending a cold glare Lovino's way. "What do you mean that he's not the killer?"

"He—he was trying to help," Feliciano shakily explained. "He truly was only trying to help."

"Then," Lovino's voice trembled, a fresh set of moisture on his own cheeks. He needed to calm down, but he couldn't. "Then who is?"

Feliciano took a moment longer with the detective before he stood. With a deep breath, Lovino watched as the kid's features hardened, his eyes setting and his body becoming something calm. It was the same demeanor he wore when he got arrested, when he decided  _fuck it_  in the storm. He was preparing to do something reckless, stupid. "The killer is Antonio Carriedo."

Stupid-faced Carriedo? Lovino shook his head. He had been fucking fooled! His mind flashed back to the fist time he had seen him. Officer Carriedo, off to go release Feliciano from Oxenstierna's hold. Lovino hadn't considered that the man who was supposed to shoot Feliciano would have been the kind smiled Mexican cop. And when Carriedo had offered to help them out-of-the-blue? He should have suspected it! What fucking cop just offers up their services,  _knowing full well_  that the people he was helping were lying and presenting him with incriminating evidence.

"Where is he?" Lovino demanded. He would kill him! He would—he shook his head.

He would help Gilbert and Ludwig. He wouldn't go beyond that.

"I don't know, but he couldn't have gotten far," Feliciano said quickly. He started forward, determined, but he ended up stumbling. Lovino kept him from falling face-first, but the kid looked so tired. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't apologize, idiot," Lovino said softly.

"Did you come up against a  _Hollow_?" Ludwig asked.

Feliciano just smiled. "They're not as bad as everyone says." Lovino could have reprehended him right there. " _Apertio aurium_ ," he giggled against Lovino's shoulder. Lovino tried to keep him from falling, scraping by with a half victory.

"Damn it, Feliciano, don't pass out now."

Feliciano just shot him a look. "But, look forward."

Lovino's heart thrummed. Feliciano was alive. For the first time he realized this. He wasn't dead. Lovino had found a way to keep him from dying. Sure, he was tired, and he looked like he might be dying, his staggered breaths and confusing way of speaking was something Lovino wanted to never, ever leave behind again.

"You guys," Gilbert said, trepidation ruining his tone. "You guys, we have company!"

Only, it wasn't company. It was the smashing of what looked like a gas can. Followed by the streaking colors of flames.

Someone was setting the warehouse on fire.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Hi, guy from Brazil who I'm pretty sure binged the last 15 chapters in under an hour. You a trooper and I appreciate you._

_Whoop, whoop, this is officially the size of a god damn novel. To everyone that accepted Lovino's reasoning that Oxenstierna was the bad guy—c'mon, you know better than to trust Lovino. He is a very bad cop._

_Next chapter explains a whole fucking lot, but we gotta throw in some action before we can shift through it, y'know?_

_COMMENT! Did you catch what Feliciano said at the end?_ Weird that he was speaking Latin, you guys, no way that could be an indicator of anything—nope, not at allllll.  _Honestly that line had been planned since chapter 2, so I thought I'd point it out aggressively._


	17. Dix-Sept

"I can't—" Lovino cried out, trying to keep Feliciano from falling further as they attempted to reach the door before flames totally engulfed the only exit Lovino could see. The mixture of his wounds and the sheer dead-weight of his friend came together, prompting him to fail. Ludwig was by his side in an instant, taking the kid onto his back as if it were nothing.

Lovino stared. He didn't like him. The tall blond that turned to the albino, that yelled, that took immediate charge. He didn't like him. The one who hefted Feliciano towards the door, the one whose movements whispered across the floor as he dodged bodies.

Lovino didn't like him but he would let it go.

"I—Oxenstierna—" Gilbert sputtered, turning back.

"No, leave him," Ludwig demanded. "We need to get out of here!"

"He's still alive," Gilbert pressed.

Lovino, glancing from the door to the fallen detective, made his way to help Gilbert. Gilbert didn't share the taller one's stature, but he was still powerful, and with a little assistance he had a man on his back, as well.

"Hurry up!" Ludwig screamed from the door.

The two stumbled forward. The black smoke from outside filled and billowed around them. Lovino squinted his eyes, trying his damndest to ignore the sickening smell and the heart-dropping despair that wrenched around him. His eyes pricked with sharp tears, and his already dry throat bled.

A crash, and they were too late.

"Damn it!"

"Fuck!"

"I told you two to hurry up!"

"Well, that's not going to fucking help us now. We need a new exit!"

A fit of coughing. "Any—Any ideas, fucktard?"

The room wasn't too large. Lovino tried to study the walls through the discharge. Many warehouses had garage-like doors, didn't they? He tried to find something of that nature, but there wasn't even a sign of a hanging chain or automated box that might open such a door. It was less like a warehouse and more like a ground-floor basement.

"On the count of three!" Lovino turned, surprised, to find Ludwig and Gilbert preparing to slam into one of the walls. Both Feliciano and Berwald were left to slump against the floor. The flames were ravishing, even the wall they had chosen wasn't offered any mercy.

The two ran forward. Both were rendered to hisses and cries as they back away, cradling burns and what would become bruises.

If they survived long enough for that.

"Damn it! Damn it!" Gilbert yelled, kicking at the wall.

"Let's try again," Ludwig demanded.

"It's no use," Gilbert growled back. He turned in a circle, red—both iris and rimmed—ticking to every wall.

The heat became unbearable real quick. Lovino sunk to the floor, just trying to breathe. What were they going to do? If they were stuck in here any longer they would asphyxiate. They would be lucky to die-by-falling building and cinders. Lovino closed his eyes, balling his fists, gasping for anything he could get beyond the corpses' smoke.

He needed to think, and he needed to breathe, and he needed to find a way out of the situation they found themselves in. There was no way they could use the door. The flames were growing hotter and hotter, thicker as they joined with the flames from outside. Black smoke, billowing, filling. Lovino shook his head. No; his eyes were closed. He couldn't see the smoke. He could only smell it, taste it. They needed to get out!

He coughed again, keeling into the floor, his toes curling desperately. His head swooned and blurred, stars scattering across the vision of the blackness.

One room, one door, zero time left.

One room, one door, a dozen or so bodies burning.

On room, one door, five people left to burn alive.

Lovino hit his hands against the floor in a fury. He couldn't do anything about this! They were going to die, and he was powerless.

He couldn't kill to get out of this.

His plans kept falling short. What plans? He couldn't think properly—the flames ravished the ceiling in full, debris raining down from above. The two conscious members of his team were now both rendered to kneeling positions themselves, neither talking, both just trying not to die. None of them would last much longer.

Lovino screamed.

He would not die like this. He would not die powerless. He would not die in a fucking abover-ground bunker near a god damn campsite with a drained fucking lake. No, he wouldn't. He, and Feliciano, and the two god damn fucking brothers would fucking survive.

Desperately Lovino crawled over to the other four. "Time—You—Time—" he coughed, attempting to get his thoughts across.

No one answered him. He cursed. It was too hot to think.

So that plan fell short.

If the black smoke around him didn't make him so anxious, Lovino imagined that he would have felt tired. He imagined that he would have taken the L. Instead, with every passing moment his heart thudded louder and louder and louder until he felt that it was to burst.

Thud, thud, thud.

And then he had an idea.

It was stupid, and it was really fucking stupid, but it was all that he had.

One room, one door, a fuckton of fucking murder victims.

Lovino had been able to pull power from the living. Could he pull it from the dead?

Abandoning the group, he fell to the first body he could find. It wasn't far from where he had been, but it was being eaten slowly by flames. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus.

There was no vision. Only blackness. Lovino cursed. He could feel the anger seeping beneath his fingertips, but it was as if there was a wall between him and the girl's strength. He tried harder, pushed further. He imagined something of an ocean, waves pushing and pulling. It reminded him of the interaction with Feliciano. Pushing and pulling. He needed to break down her wall. He needed to embrace her powers. He needed to survive, to save, to fucking not be the cause of another fucking death.

It wasn't working.

It wasn't working until he let his focus slip, and he let his thoughts bulge and anger.

He needed to kill Antonio Carriedo.

Dead people can't kill living people, and his anguish understood that. His thudding heart pounded with the force of a million armies as the wall was broken. Lovino was filled with the smoke, his mouth and nose taking it in as he gasped, a feeling so deep and dark filling him, something he could never imagine experiencing.

His eyes still only saw darkness, but it was different. When he opened his eyes it was swirling. It was darkening his skin.

It was working.

He fell to another body, and another. Each one filled him like a shot of caffeine, his heart threatening to become so powerful that it would overwhelm him. With each one the smoke seemed to bend and dip around him. He could breathe, in his pocket of chaos.

Now all he had to do was to figure out how to control it.

He tried the push and pull method, but quickly became beyond irritated. "Fuck!" he screamed. He swung his arms, breaths raggid, fists balled. Every bit of his body was pinched and angered.

He needed more fucking power! But another body would kill him. He needed power from someone that was alive.

He needed to make a sacrifice.

Oxenstierna was going to die anyway. He needed his power. He needed to be able to control the desperation around him long enough to snuff out the flames at the door. To get out. To kill Antonio. To save the other three.

He needed to make a sacrifice.

The world outside was different from that inside. Lovino stared, his breathing labored with power. He wasn't sure if it was just for him, but the outside world was grey. Totally. Still flames ravished the falling trees and dried grass, but their light was dimmed and tainted.

 _Hollows_.

"We need to get out of here," Lovino demanded. Ludwig and Gilbert stammered behind him, Feliciano's weight shared between the two of them. "We're surrounded by  _Hollows_."

Gilbert let out a choked laugh. "Great."

Lovino quickly led the way, trying to get them to the car, but it seemed that every entrance into the trees was blocked by flames. And then, suddenly, he heard a voice.

 _This way_  it said, though Lovino was positive he had been the only one to hear it. It might be a trap. Or a—he didn't know. He had never been in this type of situation before. He quickly decided to follow it, nonetheless, as he didn't have much of a plan left.

"This way," he echoed.

The four of them were able to stumble into the forest. An errie darkness fell around them, and Lovino listened for any sign of the voice. His vision suddenly blurred and dipped.

And within the sudden dizziness, he realized something: the  _Hollows_  were being controlled. They were not acting on their own accord, or else they would have easily sought them out. Instead they seemed to surround them. Draining them slowly as they made their way deeper into the trees.

Lovino could almost smile.

The closer they got to the clearing, the more fucked up his sight became. The more  _Hollows_  that surrounded them. Ludwig and Gilbert both collapsed. They couldn't go any further. Lovino left them behind, following the voice that continued him forward.

And then he came to the clearing.

Antonio Carriedo stood there, a look of victory on his features. Lovino smiled back at him. The heat of the forrest fire was on them, and the blackness of a circle of  _Hollows_  surrounded them. They moved to cut Lovino's path off, as if he planned to run back. No, this was what he was looking for. He would kill this man. He would!

"I didn't know if you would make it out alive." His tone was easy.

Lovino could feel the  _Hollows'_  effect on his muscles. They were making to weaken him. He dug a nail into his palm. The power from the bodies and Oxenstierna still strengthened him. He would fight this battle and he would win, no matter how many fucking voids surrounded him.

His irritation took away from his vocabulary. He flew forward, throwing his fist.

Antonio almost laughed. Lovino didn't make it within five feet of him before the army of darkness was pushed onto him. He coughed and fell.

Desperate and hopeless and—and—and he couldn't breathe and his head—and he—these—no, no, no. Lovino bowed his head into the floor. It was too much. His heart was too fast, his breaths too sporadic. He could taste the blood on his lips.

"You," he growled, his thoughts surfacing as he closed his eyes and tried to focus on the energy in his chest, "you killed that boy."

"Yes," Antonio said smoothly.

Lovino felt so angry at that. It was emotionless. There was something beside him, something that wasn't a void, that felt hotter than any flame he had ever known. It was a true feeling of betrayal.

In that moment Lovino knew that he hadn't been led into a trap by Antonio. He had been led into confrontation by Gabriel.

Lovino fed off of that sadness, that suffering, and managed to shoot a glare up at Antonio. "You betrayed him."

Antonio smiled at him. "I just wanted to know what it would feel like, to take a life. It was so easy. The boy had called me personally—I was one of the officers on his domestic abuse case. I gave him my cell. He called, telling me that he had run away after a harsh beating." Antonio began to pace, circling Lovino, unaware that every word he said caused Lovino's blood to boil more. He latched onto the  _Hollows_  that continued to pin him. Maybe he could control them like he could the smoke. "We met in the woods behind his apartment. He needed a hospital, that much was clear, and I knew that if I didn't get him to one he could be dead within the week." Antonio paused both his speech and his movements before laughing. "I had always wanted to know what it would feel like to have complete power over someone. So, I decided then and there that I would assist the boy in dying."

He smiled at the air around him, lost in the memory. "It was the middle of winter. I didn't need to do much. I kept him alive, tending to his wounds and gaining his trust, and then a few nights later—"

Lovino didn't need to hear the words. He could see it. The deeper he bore into Gabriel, into the  _Hollows_  the more vivid the scene became.

There was a feeling of confusion, of being lost. Antonio's warmth was almost something trustworthy as he led the boy out further into the field. The bruises had become impossibly dark, and the feeling of brokenness in his ribs was impossible to manage without wanting to cry, but Antonio had told him that he didn't need a doctor. He trusted Antonio.

Until he didn't. The grain was dead but tall this time of year. It hadn't been harvested because the farm wasn't occupied. Weeds overgrew around his feet, and the starting night was below freezing. Gabriel clung to his hoodie.

"Where are we going?"

And then everything spun and was dark. Suddenly, a new type of chill, one that sunk to the boy's core washed over him. He looked up from the ground. Antonio stood there, an empty bucket in his hands. Gabriel was soaked, and the pounding in his head made it so that he couldn't move. The pounding in his chest, in his ribs, in his body.

And that's when the first spike of fear came. When Antonio circled around him and sat  _and watched_  as Gabriel slowly froze to death.

Lovino's heart grew slower with the boy's, but it never grew weaker. He breathed into the ground again. Eyes closed, focusing. Gabriel's emotions seeped into him. The  _Hollows'_  emptiness became full.

He needed to kill Antonio Carriedo.

With shaking limbs, Lovino stuttered to his knees, to his feet. Antonio stepped back, confused and almost afraid. Lovino's heartbeats became far in between.

Thud.

He could feel the swirling emotions and emptiness and desperation clasp around him, hugging him, becoming a second skin. More  _Hollows_  came, but they just added to the layer, to the armor.

Lovino would kill him.

He came forward with a punch, surrounded by blackness, but Antonio dodged him again, refusing him of contact.

"I'll kill you!" Lovino screamed at the top of his lungs.

More  _Hollows_ , a thicker armor, a boy standing beside him, furious and afraid and betrayed. "I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you!"

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Lovino screamed, a bellicose thing that tore into his vocal chords and caused them to bleed.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Lovino was on the ground. It was too much. He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything. Energy in his chest expanded and dipped.

The last thing he remembered before his heart stopped and his world went totally numb, was Antonio standing above him. He was saying something. He was curious. He was pulling out a book, a journal, leafing through it. Lovino recognized it. It was Gilbert's. He was walking away.

And then Lovino's armor consumed him.

* * *

Something tickled Lovino's nose. He shook his head lightly, mumbling a curse of sorts. He was too tired for this. The tickling persisted. Lovino opened his eyes slowly.

A thing of nightmares sat on his chest. Its face was hard and red, like red bone, swirling into a sharp tip. Two boring holes sat where one might find eyes, letting a look into the blackness of the rest of the creature's body. Lovino screamed, sitting up as quickly as he could and pushing the creature away.

"Lovino!" Someone exclaimed. Feliciano.

Lovino, now sitting and upright, his heart relaxing from the sudden fright, blinked over at his friend. "What the fuck?" Feliciano almost smiled at him. Lovino looked around.

It seemed that they were in a grove of some sort. It was brightly lit, with different wildlife cooing around them. Trees, thick and knocky, surrounded their area, bright green and yellow grasses soft beneath Lovino's fingers. Lovino shook his head, unable to ignore the sweet smell of sap that filled his nose. "Where—are we dead?" he asked.

"No," Ludwig answered. Lovino looked up, for the first time realizing that both Ludwig and Gilbert were there.

"Then where are we?" he demanded.

"Welcome," Gilbert groaned, "to the land without time."

Lovino clicked his tongue. That sounded both fake and dumb. Of course, they was a lot of fake and dumb stuff that seemed to be happening lately. He relaxed into a criss-cross position, internalizing the pain that racked through him. Tylenol wasn't going to fix this one.

"How?" he asked quietly, picking at the grass.

"48 hours were up," Ludwig said simply.

Lovino furrowed his brows. "Do you usually bring guests?"

Ludwig shook his head. "They must have wanted you two for some reason."

"How long have we been here?"

"Time is irrelevant here." Ludwig shared.

"Well, not totally," Gilbert corrected. "Your body will still respond to time normally. You will age like you would on the timeline, and it will seem like everything is laid out linearly. Life cannot pause. However, there is nothing that you can do here that can affect any of the timelines."

Lovino shook his head. Because that made sense. "Well, then what do we do here? How do we get back?"

"We go to the Confraternity and figure out what they wanted with you two, and report our inability to stop our perp." Ludwig sighed.

"And where exactly is the Confraternity?" They were surrounded by some spiritual forest. There was no way that they were going to stumble into some version of a court anytime soon. Lovino studied the ground, trying to make it out.

Ludwig was staring down at a watch of sorts. "They change location a lot," he shared with a sigh, "but it's looking like they're only a couple miles away."

"I—" Feliciano said quietly, "don't think that I'm really up for that walk." His laugh was quiet and airy and full of something of anxiety.

Lovino, for the first time, changed his course of study. He felt more tired than he ever had, and it was hard to focus, but he still set Feliciano with a stare. The boy was painted with cuts and burns. He looked like he was hanging onto consciousness by a thread. His shoulders and arms trembled lightly. Lovino was afraid that he was going to pass out on the spot, honey eyes dropping and hair messily hanging in front of them. Feliciano was the definition of a mess at that moment.

Not that Lovino could say he was any different.

"We can stay and rest for a while longer," Ludwig agreed, sitting onto the ground himself. None of them were in a situation that they could travel. Lovino wanted to lay back and fall back asleep. "Once we regain our strength we'll go."

"Let's just hope they don't decide to move out again within that time," Gilbert sighed.

And so, the lot of them rested. Lovino was eager to slip back into unconsciousness, away from the aches and pains.

* * *

Feliciano is the one that woke him up. "Lovi," he said quietly.

Lovino groaned, looking up through bleary eyes. The world was still bright. He wonder whether this time thing meant that it was always day-time. "What is it?" he asked.

Feliciano paused for a long moment. Lovino almost felt that he had imagined it. Just as he was preparing to slip off once more, Feliciano spoke again. "Lovino, something doesn't feel right."

Lovino took a deep breath. "What do you mean?"

"I—I don't know."

Helpful. "Go back to sleep, we'll figure it out later, okay?"

There was a long silence and Lovino opened his eyes. Feliciano was staring at his hands. His whole demeanor screamed of discomfort. Lovino groaned and sat up.

"Okay, what is it?"

Feliciano shot a deperate look at him. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice practically weeping. "I—I don't know, Lovino. Something doesn't feel right. I just—I can't—I can't put this feeling aside that something is wrong."

"Wrong how?"

Feliciano didn't need to speak to let Lovino know that the kid didn't know. Sighing, Lovino rubbed at his neck, flinching away when he brushed along a burn.

"It feels like when you mess up really bad in front of a group of people," Feliciano laughed sadly. "Like I screwed up everything for—I don't know. It's—I'm scared. I don't know."

"Like you screwed up?"

Feliciano nodded slowly. Lovino frowned. He didn't know, either.

A litte later the group decided that they were ready to travel. Ludwig checked his watch again. "Alright, they haven't moved, let's go."

They trekked through forrest. Lovino stepped away from much of the wildlife. Birds with four wings, weird, devil-horned rats, and owls that cawed with teeth-filled beaks.

"They're cute," Feliciano giggled as Lovino groan-yelped, dancing away from a creature whose eyes looked to be four times the size of it's feet. "Kinda like a deep-web art project."

Lovino shook his head.

They continued like this, taking breaks every now and again. Lovino felt he would be stuck in the forest forever, until suddenly they broke out of a tree line to find something Lovino had never seen beyond fantasy-book concept art. He blink, craining his neck to try and take in the whole essence of the building in front of him. It twisted and curved like a wonky tree branch, reaching into the sky, it's exterior made out of something that gleamed black like obsidian.

"Are you trying to tell me that they move  _this thing_  around with them?" Lovino demanded, admiration and disbelief apparent on his tongue.

"You're in a world without time and  _that_  surprises you?" Gilbert laughed.

The lot of them made it up to the building. The ground became concreate, slinking gates of silver rattling randomly around them. There was a breeze here, at the base of the exterior, even though not a single tree waned under the pressure of even a breath. Lovino swallowed as Ludwig pressed a button.

"Beilschmidts reporting," he said into a speaker of sorts.

Lovino looked around. It looked like they were standing in front of a metal tree. There was no door.

Until there was one. Swooshing and slamming, a large hole appeared in the shimmering black. It opened up to a brightly lit hall. The walls were perfectly white-and-grey, giving Lovino a sense that he had found some sci-fi hospital.

When they all made it inside the door slammed shut again. Feliciano stuck to Lovino's side.

They didn't even make I to another room before they were met.

"Rule number one! Don't change the future." A blond man came in from the end of the hall, green eyes angry and attire two centuries old. He words were sludged by a thick accent, one that Lovino had to imagine was British. He walked forward, his shoes echoing defeningly against the hall walls. He studied Lovino and Feliciano carefully. Lovino felt Feliciano shrink away, but he himself straightened with a sort of defiance. The stupid brit didn't intimidate him. "Now can you please explain to me why there is a man who is supposed to be dead sitting here, very much alive, and why there is a serial killer with access to a clock?"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Evan Hanson is a little bitch._


	18. Dix-Huit

_"Now can you please explain to me why there is a man who is supposed to be dead sitting here, very much alive, and why there is a serial killer with access to a clock?"_

Lovino blinked. Who was this clown? Ludwig and Gilbert both seemed to know him, and neither of them seemed to giggle about the fact that his attire seemed one chest-plate away from Alexander the Great's timeline, though it did have some version of what Lovino would have deemed steampunk if he knew anything steampunk beyond Meg Merriet's  _Sky Song Overture_.

"What?" Ludwig asked. His tone was always a bit stiff, but here in front of what Lovino quickly gathered to be someone above him in ranks, it was practically rock. "What do you mean someone has access to a clock?"

"And what do you mean by someone's supposed to be dead?" Feliciano squeaked. Lovino shot him a quick glance. Feliciano was rarely shy when it came to new people. Even when he was he would become so nervous that he would talk their ears off. Now he was backing away, fiddling with the hem of a tattered shirt as he stared wide-eyed at the British guy. Did Lovino miss something?

The man turned as he started talking, prompting them to follow him. "Sadık Adnan," he said straightforwardly.

"Did you find him?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes," the Brit shared. "We discovered shortly before sending you two off that he was the one who was originally running the pack of  _Hollows_."

"You figured that our  _before_  we left?" Gilbert groaned.

"We were expecting you two to bring him back with you, but it seems that plans have been changed." The blond threw an accusatory glance behind himself, fixing Lovino quickly before turning back around. "Sadık found a way to control the  _Hollows_ , we're still not positive how, and proceeded to go AWOL in the twenty first century. He had also found a way to block the location transmitter."

"Then how did you find him?"

"Everyone leaves a trail," he sighed. Lovino tried to ignore the nagging guilt that the phrase suddenly enflamed. It was like acidic food to a heartburn. "The further the investigation over the  _Hollows_  went, the more obvious it was."

"Wait," Lovino said quickly, "Sadık Adnan—wasn't that a name on the list of Missing Persons?"

Ludwig's lips tightened. "Yes."

"So—what—" Lovino attempted to figure out what was being implied. "Antonio took this guy out and the too his place?"

"Precisely."

Lovino wondered dismally if Antonio had been working on the case and succeeded in cracking it, a feat which lead him to the exact power that he was running around now. If that was true, then not only was he dangerous because of his entourage, but he would be intellectually dangerous. Lovino didn't know how old he was, but he knew that people weren't made police detectives right-out-the-gate.

"But you can't use a clock without knowing  _how to use it_ ," Gilbert's tone was dry. "So, just because that psycho  _has_  a clock it doesn't mean that he'll be able to use it."

"That's what we were hoping." The British man said, sincerity sighing into his words. The hallway led into a large open room. Grand doors and staircases corkscrewing upwards met them. Lovino looked up, it looked like it went on forever, right into the sky. A great sense of dread came over him when the blond took to a staircase, but they were on it for practically no time before coming to a new floor. Furrowing his brows, he looked up from his place. Nothing but sky. But his feet were on solid ground, a smooth stone shimmering pinkly at him. "That's what we were hoping, but it seems that he figured it out. The clock gave off location for the first time since Sadık's disappearance recently."

"What! He's traveling?"

"He's trying to. We've sent out foot soldiers to apprehend him and take the clock. We are also working to disable it from afar."

This new room bled into a set of forking halls. They walked about halfway down one of the halls before turning into a door. They were met with what Lovino had to guess was this world's version of a waiting room. It was like the waiting rooms where he was from. Boring, stiff chairs, a door leading off somewhere else, a screen on the far wall—wait. Lovino practically ran forward. It seemed that the wall wasn't there! He could see straight down, the trees, the heavy clouds that traipsed around them. Lovino stared, trying to remember if he had seen any windows from below. His memory painted it like an ebony claw. Was it like the floor?

"But," the Brit continued, "we're having troubles with that." Lovino turned back around. Right, he should focus on the whole serial killer thing.

"Trouble turning it off?" Ludwig asked.

The Brit nodded. "Yes, it seems that Sadık might have messed with it."

Ludwig nodded, his eyes far away, trying to come up with a solution. "That makes sense."

Lovino studied the tall blond. He didn't know what it was, but there was something suspicious about the answer. And the way that Ludwig proceeded to send a quick, almost annoyed look Gilbert's way just fueled Lovino's curiosity. Did something not make sense about the explanation? Lovino's head quickly flashed with Tedd-Cruz-is-the-Zodiac-Killer type conspiricies. Was this a group of people that secretly were looking to place a failure on foot soldiers while, secretly, working in the back to assure failure? Had they always known where the clock was but just let it go? Were these the lizard people everyone gossiped over? Fuck, what if they could read his mind? Were tinfoil hats justified!?

Taking a deep breath through his nose and plastering a simple "I'm not guilty please don't anal probe me" smile, Lovino focused really fucking hard on nothing. And then when nothing found a way to be fucking porn (because for some reason it is the moments when one tries to keep their thoughts clean that the sick fuck in them really comes out) he quickly changed his plan and started going over random lyrics.

Fucking-A, Feliciano's fucking pop-turned-Broadway is what came to mind, and now he was aggressively waving through a god damn fucking window. Fucking-A.

"Now, onto a more serious topic," the man said. "Feliciano Varmint, son of Alexandria Socly and Romulus Varmint, have exceeded your previously established lifeline."

Lovino didn't know what t do. Feliciano didn't seem to know either. He stood there, staring. His lips didn't even move to try and speak. The words held a special weight over Lovino's head, and he could only imagine what Feliciano could be thinking. Was this…was that why he had been feeling weird? What the fuck was happening?

"Do you understand?" he asked.

Feliciano's eyes seemed to be playing ball between his shoes and the man's stern expression. "I—" he choked, "don't—I don't. I don't know what—I—"

The blond lightly rolled his eyes, sighing out his nose as if this were growing tiresome. Lovino clicked his tongue. This little bitch—"it means that you should be dead right now. It means that you have thrown a wrench in the current string of time, and because of it nothing will go as originally planned. Not only have you changed your future, but you have also changed the future for millions of others."

Feliciano shuffled. "What does that—what does it mean?"

"There has to be a balance of happenings," Lovino was getting fucking sick of the word balance, "and when someone that is supposed to die lives…well there's a change in the system that tries to incorporate that."

Lovino opened his mouth to ask about what 'the system' referred to, but he was cut off by Ludwig. "It means that someone will have to die in your place."

"In my-?" Feliciano was practically crying. Lovino had sensed his anxiety before, but it flipped on its head and seemed to not only settle on the kid, but crush him.

The Brit nodded. "Unfortunately, yes."

"I—but—I—"

"You will probably feel weird until the string settles and rewrites you back into the system, a little bit of disorientation. It's common. Well, as common as changing the future can be."

Lovino shook his head, taking a step towards the British  _twat_. "Fuck you," he defended. "You don't go around spewing shit like that! What's your fucking damage?"

"And you," he started.

Lovino laughed. "Oh no, no, you are not changing the fucking subject. Whatever fucking happened isn't Feliciano's fault. And fuck you saying that he's supposed to be dead. He's alive, okay? So that—that means that your fancy fucking—what the fuck did you call it—I don't—no, shut up—I don't care—it means that your fancy fucking technology or heavenly powers" he wriggled his fingers towards the sky, flaring his nostrils in an ugly sarcastic awe, "are wrong, or malleable, and therefore fuuuuck you."

"Lovino—" Feliciano started.

"No, listen to me," he demanded, not of Feliciano but of the stupid fuck. "There's just a shitload of talk about free will. And do you know what you just fucking told me? You just admitted to me that free will exists. If things can change, then they're—I don't—fuck; just shut up and save your preaching for whatever fucking century your fucking outfit came from. Seriously, the Babylonian Empire wants their fucking fleece back."

"Are you done?" the blond drew, eyes lidded in an impatient boredom.

Done! Aha! As if! If Lovino could do anything well, it was bitch out a bitch for the rest of bitching ever. And right now? After everything that had happened, after all the frustration cycled through, sinking into cynicism at the bottom of his gut like a kidney stone, he was ready to throw his verbal assaults (his body much too ragged and tired to make it physical, not to mention the lack of real gusto) at anyone and anything that even  _dare_  take a fucking swing at Feliciano. Fuck, the kid was practically crying due to the burns and injuries, did this prick really have to add on some fucking all-expenses paid guilt trip?

No, he didn't. Lovino would play pretend cop.

But he was cut off when a woman fell into the room. She wore a long red, almost pink coat that fell into sleeves near her wrists. Boots peeked out from the bottom, appearing as often as a light ribbon that winked through her light brown hair. She walked with both grace and urgency. (A/N this is Liechtenstein btw)

"Rei," the blond said, falling into position and seeming to ignore Lovino all-together.

"There's a problem," the girl, Rei, said quickly. "The string is still in shambles."

Lovino smirked, crossing his arms with a sharp chuckle. "Still? I believe that means that there has been an amount of time passing in this fucking land without time. Ironic, isn't it?"

The girl fixed him with s studious stare. "So, this is him?"

Lovino clicked his tongue, glaring.

"He looks a bit…"

"Weak," the blond finished with a nod of his head. "I know, I thought the same thing."

He just prayed that there was a god and that he or she would send both of them to hell. Or, if the cool people went to Hell, to Heaven with all those stuffy people that would preach them to death. In Heaven. Yes, die you little bitch.

Rei never the less extended her hand. "Rei Litch," she introduced.

"Lo—"

"Yes, I know. You're one of the descendants of the Warp. I've heard a lot about you."

"The what?"

"The Warp," the blond started, "was the God of Chaos until she was split."

Lovino quirked a brow. "Split?"

"Split," the blond reastated. "She had grown too powerful, but it wasn't her time to die yet, so the Confraternity forced her to split her strengths into four different Neverborns—either that or perish."

"She had been a terror on the string and on the people," Rei explained carefully. "She took advantage of the humans and their gullibility and used her strengths to overpower every man and woman she came across. From the texts I can tell you that it wasn't pretty."

"Okay," Lovino said slowly, closing his eyes briefly to try and wrap his head around this whole ordeal. "So some god grew too powerful and broke away from you guys?"

"Well, no us, exactly," Rei chuckled. "The order that dealt with her have been gone for what would relate to your centuries. Nothing is infinite, not even time or gods, so of course when we speak of the Confraternity we are talking about all members, dead, alive, and yet to be written."

"That sound conceded."

Rei smiled at him. "You're doubtful, still. You're standing in a land seen by only a handful of people. I'm sure you've felt something of your own powers. What do you need so that you understand?"

Lovino thought hard on that. Nothing felt real to him, here. As far as he knew he had died fighting Antonio and this was the last flash of neurons before everything went dark. It was too…whimsical. One-way glass walls, strange creatures, dead friends not dead. It was all…unrealistic.

His body hurt, and the burns pulled his skin taunt, but at the same time he could  _move_. No one with the amount of injuries he sustained, or Feliciano or Gilbert or Ludwig, should be able to even walk. They had rested, but it had felt like they had only spent maybe an hour resting before they started moving. Time still affected him, right? He was still mortal and slowly dying. But why could he walk and talk and roll his eyes instead of roll around whimpering for painkillers?

"We could show him the string." Gilbert said, recalling attention to himself.

"I don't think—" the British man started to insist, but Rei nodded.

"Good idea."

And so they all filtered back into the hall. Lovino stuck back for as long as he could. Feliciano mozied along, staring at his feet. Lovino stopped him.

"Feliciano." The boy hummed back a response. Something shook and shattered in Lovino's chest, and he knew that this was a  _very_ bad feeling. "Don't listen to them."

He just shook his head, refusing to look up as he hugged at his shoulders. "Okay," he whispered.

"Feliciano," Lovino said, more distinct, silently cursing the idiot in front of him for not…for not getting angry, for just taking the guilt without a word of defiance against it! "Feliciano, I'm being serious." What was he supposed to say? To do? This sight, the immense feeling behind it—it was going to kill him, soon. It was the same feeling that was stuck so powerfully behind the desperation.

And it was that thought that kept Lovino from reaching out to offer the boy the slightest bit of physical condolences. The bruises on the boy's face were  _his_  fault. The burns that bubbled around his veins, lightening up his forearm, were  _his_ fault. He had hurt him again. But this time…this time it wasn't some stupid argument that could be fixed with a grumble and a muffin. No, this, whatever this was…it was dangerous. Lovino hated this feeling of self-awareness, he'd much rather curse his way through it all, but he was a danger to others.

The eyes, the fear, cracking interiors, a lust for blood and despair, it all crashed into him at once.

Lovino found himself looking at his own shoes. His eyes didn't rim with tears, he was dry. Empty. Shaking his head slowly, Lovino recoiled his hand and balled it into his shirt. "Please, Feliciano, just don't listen to them. Just…please just don't."

He couldn't give a good argument now. He had no right to tell Feliciano what to and what not to feel. Who the fuck if his friend's misery broke him? He didn't have a right to sympathy.

But Feliciano did.

It was that thought that turned him to follow the group of people down the hall.

"Put these on," Rei ordered, handing out what looked to be sun-glasses. When he put them on they turned the world black. What was this? A slim VR headset?

Only, when the door was open, the whole world suddenly brightened again. He blinked. Either the power came on, or the fucking sun was kept in that room.

They entered.

Lovino stared. This was not real. He wasn't look at real things. Nope. They were playing him a god-damn fool because fuck. It was elaborate, he had to admit, the vast drop that he now stared into. Greys and blues and reds circled around each other, forming what looked to be words, or perhaps pictures—he wasn't sure, it was something he had never seen before—before a loud crack would be heard and the structures fall into the white nothingness beneath their feet. They stood on a slim bridge. In the middle was a plethora of impossibly slim monitors that all seemed to feed into a hole, stretching into the blindingly white void, a few people walking around nervously, typing feverishly or just standing back and staring with slight shakes of their heads.

"Report," Rei demanded over the noise. A man shook his head. The glasses made it impossible to see his eyes and matched with his long coat—similar to Rei's, but of a grey color and the sleeves were rolled up to the biceps—to make him look like a practical cyborg. Washed-out hair stood tall on his head, and a light scarf seemed to be tucked under the folds of his jacket.

"No clue," he admitted. "We've gone over records, and there doesn't seem to be anything quite like this. There's some sort of disturbance that is keeping the string from coming back together."

"What does that mean?" Ludwig demanded.

Rei and the Brit were too busy to answer. Rei quickly sat herself at one the screens, eyes peeled for something Lovino could only imagine. He walked closer to the edge, peering over the edge to watch the bright ordeal.

Elaborate, indeed. He wondered if anyone had ever fallen into it—and what would happen if they did. The strings of information seemed to come from nowhere, their colors mixing and clasping before shattering away. No, there was no way that Feliciano had caused this. The Brit had said that people had survived past their time before. If they didn't know what was happening, then it had to be something that Feliciano had nothing to do with.

Lovino silently hoped that Feliciano realized that. Another sharp cracking bellowed from below. It seemed to even shake the bridge. Lovino stepped away from the edge.

The Brit turned sharply and headed towards the door. Gilbert and Ludwig both followed after him. Lovino decided to tag along. Coming out of the room he tore off the glasses, securing them on his collar.

"What does it mean?" Ludwig asked again, this time a bit sterner.

"It means," the Brit said, "that the timeline is falling apart! It means that if we don't get it fixed,  _soon_  there may be a split of timelines—a paradox—or all the information could become muddled or there may cease to be any progression at all!"

Gilbert laughed. "Won't this be fun!"

"What?" Lovino asked. "What are you guys saying—I don't understand."

Gilbert looked at him, the everlying glee in his eyes. "It means that there will either be alternate timelines running at the same time, that all past, present, and future will come together in one moment of  _unreal time_ , or that time will just stop."

"Stop? Like how time has stopped here?"

"No, like,  _stop_."

Lovino shook his head. "No. No! Those can't—that doesn't— _you_  said that this was normal. It's re-written itself before, hasn't it?"

"Yes, countless times before. We try to keep the re-writings to a minimum, and our foot soldier are our last line of defiance when something is jumping around changing things, but  _this_  has never happened."

They ran up the steps to another staircase. "Stay out here," the Brit ordered of the three that had followed him. He disappeared into a pair of large, looming, black doors. Lovino turned to the other two, a lump in his throat.

He didn't understand anything that was going on but found comfort in the fact that the other two looked just as confused as he did.

Suddenly Rei was bounding up the stairs and passing by them into the doors. Lovino tried to steal a glance through the doors, but it looked like it just opened into an impossibly vast, empty room.

"What's in there?" Lovino asked.

"The Order," Ludwig said. He had taken to leaning against the wall, tiredly crossing his arms and worriedly staring at the door.

"The Order?"

"It's the leaders of the Confraternity. They have the last say in everything that happens."

"A group of different gods," Gilbert shared, "that have sworn to keeping the string safe from those wishing to overcome it." As if he were making Lovino feel better, Gilbert chuckled. "Chaos was the worst threat that the string ever saw."

"I—I still don't understand all of that," Lovino admitted. "I—"

"It's hard to understand. There's a lot of abstract things that even me and Ludwig don't get, and we've been in the job for over a decade now. I'm sure that all of this is a bit overwhelming—" to say the least—"but I suggest you just go along with the flow."

"That's good and all," Lovino tried, "but this whole  _descendent of a god_  thing? Timelines and the possible end of timelines themselves? Or,  _itself_? I just don't get it. What is a Neverborn? If she was so dangerous, then wouldn't her parts be just as dangerous? I just—" he shook his head.

Ludwig sighed. "Einstein logic isn't going to help you. You've entered a whole new realm of quantum physics, so trying to understand it without a good deal of studying the topic is just going to cause you to grow angry in your ignorance. As for Chaos, she had a particular power. She was able to manipulate people's emotions, yes, but she was also able to take parts of people and parts of herself and create things. Some of it, I guess, was vaguely similar to a demon, because she could possess both people and corpses, but she could only manipulate. She never grew strong enough to take over a persons mind."

"However," Ludwig continued, "she was able to create life. It wasn't—they're known as Neverborns. It's a lot like her possessions, but it didn't  _need_  a host. From herself she was able to create beings. The only thing was that with every being it took a great deal of her soul, her behaviorisms and ideals. Essentially, it was a condensed version of whatever she decided it to be."

"She was given a choice: break herself into four Neverborns or be executed. She, of course, chose to survive as four, but not without some pushback. The problem with the god of Chaos was that she wasn't only extremely powerful, but she was clever, and she was spiteful. She knew that there was a chance that she would be defeated. So, before she even began, she had a child with a mortal man and left it to be raised among humans."

Lovino picked at his thumb. "Oh" was all that he could manage.

"Of course, because you're more mortal than you are god, you don't have nearly the amount of power she did. But you will still have all of the parts of her, and they will be more apparent than any other emotion or desire."

"So, what were they? The parts? What am I looking forward to getting consumed by?" His tone was as dry as his current humor.

"The first Neverborn came to be known as Khorne. You might recognize the name, as it has been in stories and myths."

"Also a pretty cool band," Gilbert offered.

"Khorne was known for his ruthlessness. He essentially became known for his rage and violence, and was always searching for bloodshed.

"The next one that came was Nurgle. He was known for disease and despair. It was this part of Chaos that gives everyone such a vast fear of morbidity and dying.

"It was the Neverborn of lust and pain and excess that followed him. Slaanesh.

"And finally, the most dangerous of them all was Tzeentch. He was intelligent, ambitious, and the only one of the lot that could seep into a person's psyche. If it hadn't been for the other three's inability to look past their own features, Tzeentch would have led them into a victory against the Confraternity and Order. Thankfully that wasn't the case. In the end the four were never able to work together."

Lovino hummed something back. "That's good, I think."

"And it's also what makes you so dangerous." Ludwig stated coldly. "What you pulled with that woman and that detective will not be looked over. When this all gets figured out, you will report to the Confraternity, and, depending on their decision, the Order."

Lovino could almost laugh. "So, that's why I'm here."

The doors opened and Ludwig straightened. The Brit and Rei both walked out with slow steps, neither one of them saying anything.

"What is it?" Ludwig asked.

"It's—" Rei started, but she fell short of an answer.

"It's fixed," the Brit said for her, seeming to draw out the words.

"And?" Gilbert asked, straight forward.

"And we have no idea what happened." Rei shared. "We—no idea at all."

The two took towards the stairs, and Lovino started following, but he hung back when he realized the brother's had. Ludwig was shaking his head.

"I told you not t, Gilbert!" he scorned.

"I know, but that doesn't really help us  _now_ , does it, Lud?"

"This isn't a joke!"

"What isn't a joke?"

The two looked up, though only Ludwig looked surprised to see that he was there.

"Nothing."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Hi, guys, so if you are here for the Itacest, I apologize for it being such a slow burn, but I hope you're strapped in and ready to wait longer. I believe in relationships based around two independent people that stand strong on their own before coming together, so the next few chapters will be building onto Feliciano's character more than anything. We will also get to see that Ludwig isn't the biggest nerd in the brother pair!_

_Fun fact! This is my first one-scene chapter in this series! That means 4k words of just one go. Itsn't great?_

_Guest that commented 8/9/18_

_Yay! I'm so glad someone appreciates it! This is personally my favorite pair, and it sucks to see that there are, like, zero slow burn adventures! I swear that everyone just deleted their Itacest fics in like 2014 or some shit because I can remember this place being a beacon for Itacest shit in maybe I was just appeased with one-shots back then._

_Please send that bully my way. I would like to have a few words with them._


	19. Dix-Nuit

"Nothing."

"That doesn't work," Lovino growled, sending quick glances to the large doors and the area that led to the stairs, making sure no one was there. "What did you do? Don't—no, if you put everyone in danger, and you know what's wrong, don't you think that maybe telling someone so that they can  _fix_  it is a good idea?"

"There's nothing that we can do to fix it," Gilbert admitted. "If! If it's even what it might be."

Lovino frowned openly at him. "Real specific." What was he supposed to do?

The sounds of movement flittered somewhere below them. Lovino quickly looked towards the stairs again. No one. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Tell me, and I promise not to bring up any suspicious conversing on accident when I end up in trial."

Gilbert's eyes glared fully at him, Ludwig stood to the side contemptuously. This was no popularity contest, though. Lovino wanted to know what the fuck could be happening. Even if he couldn't stop it, he could find comfort in feeling like he was a part of the  _in_  group.

"My journal, I think that officer, Antonio took it."

Lovino blinked. He recalled such a thing, yes. "Yeah, I saw him with it."

"What!" Gilbert practically shouted, "and you didn't think to grab it?"

It was Lovino's turn to glare. "No, I was kind of on the ground  _dying_. I'll be sure to be more considerate next time."

"You could have prevented all of this!"

"I thought that it might not even be your fault."

"It's your fault now."

" _What?_ Like fuck it is."

"Calm down, both of you," Ludwig stepped in. "You guys are going to attract attention to us."

"So what is it?" Lovino demanded, ignoring Ludwig. "What was so important in your journal? Launch codes?"

"What?" Gilbert asked incredulously.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Just what the fuck does Antonio know that I don't."

Gilbert took a deep breath in through his nose. He shot a glance up at Ludwig. "It might be how he figured out how to use a clock."

Lovino nodded sarcastically. "Useful information, brilliant," he drawled.

"Can you stop being so condescending?"

"No, I'm pretty sure it's literally in my nature," he said with a snarky smile. "Continue. What else is in there?"

Gilbert shrugged. "All my notes—well, the most important ones. Different creatures, different theories, different things. It's notes."

Ludwig cleared his throat. Gilbert shot him a dirty look.

"What else?" Lovino said, clicking his tongue.

Gilbert didn't answer for a long moment. He sized Lovino up. Lovino prepared for a fight, thought he still felt beyond drained and really hoped it wouldn't come to that. "Blueprints," he finally cracked. Lovino quirked an eyebrow. "Blueprints," he continued carefully, "for a time machine."

Gilbert looked like he just published the Reynold's Pamphlet, but Lovino didn't get it. "So what? You guys  _have_  time-travel devices given to you. What does it matter?"

"Our clocks are tied to the string." Ludwig explained briefly. "We can travel through time using them without disturbing anything. The only way that we mess up time is by interacting with people. But, even when we do that, the changes are usually minor. A person changes which lover they choose, or a woman ends up having a girl instead of a boy. Don't ask me how it exactly works, because legitimates change situation-to-situation."

"Okay, so, what? This time machine can't travel through time because it's not attached?"

"It  _shouldn't_." Ludwig growled.

"I, it's still just a blueprint. I've made up only a few failed prototypes, but all my notes are in my notebook. If Antonio is able to figure out what I couldn't and finish it, then it could potentially screw up the string beyond fixing."

Lovino knew that his jaw had dropped in disbelief. " _What_? Then why would you build it in the first place!"

"I haven't built it yet!"

"You built  _prototypes of failed projects_! What if one of them had  _worked_?"

Gilbert squinted up at him. "Don't look down on me, I had securities put in place."

"Oh, that's just great. Some child-murderer  _sociopath_  is out there with the potential to  _ruin time_  and you're getting offended because  _you had securities put in place._ " Lovino laughed, turning and throwing his hands up. "Smart! Just, incredible. I'm so glad that some shady organization that converses with gods and protects the fucking universe hires  _geniuses_!"

"Thank you," Gilbert sneered. "It is truly awesome of you to recognize my brilliance."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

"Both of you, unbundle your panties and let's focus." Ludwig was visibly irritated, rubbing his temples, his forehead filled with wrinkles. "We need to get the journal back."

Gilbert and Lovino shared a long glare, but soon enough Lovino won and Gilbert broke with a groan. "It explains why they can't disable the clock from afar, too."

"Let me guess, another security?"

"Yeah, actually. When you're working with a bunch of ancient-minded pricks that are run by their emotions you tend to put up securities so you're not stranded in some mess. Pawns become queens if they can sneak past stronger players."

"So what was your plan? To go AWOL?"

"No, my plan wa—is to create a more efficient way of travel. One that doesn't need the power of irrelevant gods that never look at modern ideals."

"The gods die—"

"Not quick enough. There's some in there that still recall the fucking feathered dinosaurs. Sure, some of them are more recent. The god of the sea is fairly young, but even that causes her to be ignorant."

"That sound like a useless god."

Gilbert practically chuckled. "In the modern day, they're all boarding on irrelevant. People don't fear them anymore.  _They_  fear the people. But, still, they find a way to hold power because they are the only thing standing in between the destruction of time and relative peace."

Lovino pursed his lips. The movement from earlier returned, and suddenly the Brit was climbing the stairs again. "Lovino, come with me."

Lovino sighed. He offered Ludwig and Gilbert a short nod. The way his chest relaxed when they both returned it made him feel like, somehow, they had come to an understanding through a secret. He decided, as he descended the stairs, to give them a change. Gilbert, at least. He still didn't like Ludwig.

Lovino quickly sought out Feliciano. He stood against the wall, holding his arm awkwardly, eyes jumping from person-to-person as the filling hall shuffled him aside. "What's happening?" Lovino asked, referring to the list of people.

"Lunch," he said shortly. Together they made their way over to Feliciano. "Follow me," he repeated to the kid. Feliciano nodded complacently.

They found themselves in the same room they had been in earlier, with the vast open far wall. Lovino turned. He knew that he was in for some shit. Trial—he had to almost laugh. But, of course, laughing was inappropriate. Fuck, he must be reaching that level of nervousness where everything becomes ironically funny despite acid eating away the heart and surrounding tissue. The Brit closed the door behind him carefully. It did nothing to ease Lovino's anxiety.

"Sit down," the Brit ordered.

Lovino really didn't want to do that. He felt like this man was the one sent to condemn him, and he really didn't think the blond was qualified. Still, slowly Lovino followed Feliciano's movements and sat. The arm chair he took residence in was uncomfortable, the angel 90 degree plastic despite taking the appearance of a cushion. "Apologies for being interrupted before," he sighed, "but the course of action from here depends on you two. Or—more so you." He looked straight at Feliciano.

Feliciano looked back at him, no real emotion on his face. "Yeah?" he asked quietly. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Lovino's fate depends on how good he is in court. Because of your—"

"Yeah, yeah, gotta see the court. Ludwig and Gilbert filled me in," Lovino ground. Feliciano seemed to jump to something of life, looking over at Lovino with a wide stare.

"Court?"

Lovino shrugged. "Don't—Don't worry about it." It wasn't a lie if no information was presented, so the drop of guilt really wasn't needed. Lovino crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. "So when does that happen, anyway? A week, a month, what?"

"Time is—"

"Okay, fine, how many fucking lunches are going to go by before I can get in?"

The man set him with a curious green stare. "You're…eager? To stand in front of the Order?"

"I'm eager to get it over with."

"What—Wait—What are you going to court for?" Feliciano demanded.

Lovino couldn't look at the boy. Fuck, why was he feeling so  _guilty_. Damn Feliciano and his fucking sense of fucking justice. If he found out that Lovino not only killed a man but probably killed a chick, too, he would never forgive him. He would never look at him again, probably. Fuck. Fuck. Lovino shrugged shallowly, finally taking in the worried honey that awaited him. He dug his nail into his palm. "Don't worry about it."

Feliciano's stare lingered before it took on something of a glare. Lovino was taken aback. "What do you mean by that?"

Was he really starting a fight right now? "I mean that it's kind of irrelevant to the situation. Inevitable, but irrelevant. Can we move on?"

"What is he being charged with?" Feliciano demanded of the British guy.

"Manipulation, assault with his powers, attempted murder, and murder."

He ticked it off like a fucking Christmas list. Lovino bit down on his tongue, moving so his whole body was pointed away from the other two men in the room. Whatever, Feliciano would have found out one way or another. Who the fuck cared how? He didn't. Why should he.

He really wished that he would have just been hustled into a court and thrown in whatever that fucking prison Ludwig was going on about. Or maybe they would kill him. Whatever they did would be better than the brewing silence that now sat in the air. Lovino shut his eyes, putting so much pressure on the ruined nailbed of his thumb that he could practically see the red prickling pain shoot up the back of his hand.

"Murder," he heard Feliciano whisper.

"Yeah, murder," Lovino responded. He wouldn't laugh, he wouldn't laugh, he wouldn't laugh. Why was his heart skidding so fast? Why did he feel like he was standing on a cliff, half an inch from falling off?

"I—" Feliciano started, but the Brit cut him off.

"I really don't think that the Order is going to find him guilty. They are currently conferring on the matter. You will see the Confraternity first, and if they find you not guilty you will be presented to the Order. But, you will probably be safe, considering the context of the situation."

He wasn't going to laugh. "Oh? Do you think I can appease them by making some sort of sacrifice? I don't have a lamb, but I'm sure we can get creative." He wasn't going to cry. He pressed harder into his thumb.

" _Lovino_!"

" _Feliciano_!"

"Onto business," the British man said quickly. "Mr. Varmint, you've been briefly filled in on the situation."

The boy fell deeper into his chair, pulling up one foot to rest on the edge of the chair. "Do you happen to have any coffee?"

The blond furrowed a brow. "What?"

"Coffee."

"I—yes—"

Feliciano smiled at him. "Could I get some please? Before you continue, preferably." The idiot let off a small chuckle.

The blond look like he was thrown for some sort of loop. "Yes," he finally gave, "of course."

The moment he was out of the room, Feliciano was standing and twirling in a single spot.

"What are you doing?" Lovino demanded.

"Don't worry about it."

Lovino glowered at him. "Save the passive aggressiveness for your next order."

"Sorry," he said, stopping and sending Lovino the biggest smile he could muster. "So sorry, really, actually, just—"

Lovino sunk his teeth into his cheek. The boy was two seconds away from crying, three from pounding his fists against his thighs or perhaps in a wall. What was he doing? They really didn't need to be fighting right now. "Feli," he said, trying to make it a sound of comfort but ultimately coming off choked, "I—I really didn't mean to." That was a lie. He shook his head. "I mean, I meant to. I knew what I was doing. But it wasn't the plan. It—I needed—it was the only way to put out the fire long enough to get everyone out alive." He could see the detective's writhing body under his hands, the desperate gasping as Lovino took seeped the energy from the blond's deepest fears. He scrubbed a hand down his face, immediately regretting it as the skin was still sore from the flames.

"Why?" Feliciano choked out.

Lovino couldn't look at him. "I—I didn't want to die," he laughed. "And I didn't want you to die, and I wanted to take revenge on that sick fuck. I don't know, I wasn't ready to give up. So…I didn't."

"But it wasn't your place to decide who died and who lived," Feliciano cried. His tone held no venom, no accusation, just sadness.

"He was going to die anyway. We all would have! If—I—We would have all burned to death if I hadn't done what I did! I can't fix it, and I can't take it back, but put me in that situation again and—and I would do it again. A million times over, okay?"

Whispered sobs skittered, lodging a bullet in Lovino's ribs. He bit down harder, refusing to look up. "What—" the boy took a raggid breath, footsteps stammering before stopping, putting Feliciano on the floor. Lovino looked. He hated himself. He hated everything. Fuck. Feliciano curled in on himself, shaking with sobs. "What if there's another freak hospital accident?" He cried, rocking slightly. "What if—what if someone—what if—" he took in a gasping breath, a stupid, heart breaking laugh bubbling cruelly into the air.

Lovino hated this boy. He hated his empathy, the fact that he was putting some stupid fucking what-if value in front of his own life. Lovino hated him. He hated that he didn't hate him. Biting his tongue hurt more, so he did that now, focusing on the pops and ticks of the pain.

"At least," Feliciano laughed bitterly, "I was right about Christianity, yeah? At least—" he curled in tighter to himself, cutting himself off with a cry.

Lovino didn't have anything to say! Lovino didn't know what to do. He bit harder, applied more pressure, willed himself to not get up and break something. "Why?" he demanded suddenly. "Why are you so willing to die?"

Feliciano raked his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. "I—I'm not even supposed to be alive!"

Lovino stood up, angry. "Yeah, but you are alive, Feliciano! Fucking embrace it! Stop acting like your life means less than some strangers. Stop putting pity on yourself! Be fucking happy to not be  _dead_!"

Feliciano looked up at him, shaking his head. "How can you say that?"

"How can I say what?"

"My life is no more important than that stranger's, Lovino!" he yelled. "I can't be happy to be alive, because it means that I have condemned someone else to die in my place! I can't be happy to be alive because it means that I have taken someone from someone they loved. It means that I took someone's experiences, happiness, love. It means—It means that I took away something beautiful from—from the world! I can't—I am no better than them. I was meant to die, Lovino, but I'm alive, and because of it someone else will die."

Lovino shook his head. Why was this kid so fucking ignorant? "They could have been a psychopath, a murderer, some child rapist. It could have been some old dude five minutes before what had already been planned. Fuck, don't think about it like something that is planned. If it can change, then it's not set in fucking stone. Why don't you understand that? Why don't you fucking understand that your fucking death would have been just as terrible as that what-if you just made up? You're an idiot. A fucking idiot. Stop mourning a fucking piece of fiction in your head, and let's focus on what to do next."

"What…what if he didn't have to die?"

"What?"

"Detective Berwald. What if you had killed me instead?"

Lovino just stared. What was the kid saying? "Shut up. Why would you even fucking say that?"

Feliciano just looked forward into his knees.

"Why would you say that!" Lovino screamed.

Feliciano just looked up at him sadly. "Because I'm supposed to be dead," his voice was barely a whisper, "and I'm pretty sure that you were supposed to kill me."

Lovino laughed. It wasn't shallow, it was full-bellied and fanatic and shaking. No. He wasn't—no. "No, I wasn't—I" he couldn't. If he was put in a situation where he had to kill Feliciano or one of the fucking blonds, he would have easily picked one of the blonds. In his vision he had seen Feliciano burn, but he had already been dead. Feliciano didn't burn because Lovino had the vision and was able to get to him before he was killed. That was what happened. He got another vision and saved Feliciano's sorry ass for the third time. He—it—

The door opened, and the British man returned. He held two steaming mugs. Taking in the scene—Feliciano a ball on the floor, Lovino standing with his fists aggressively balled as he attempted to keep back a string of curses he would have berated Feliciano with if he didn't look so pathetic—he seemed to take pause. Lovino shot a glare at him.

He hated everything about these people. He was supposed to be a truck driver right now. If only he hadn't fucking decided to save that Natalie fucker. His efforts continuously spat in his face.

"How was I supposed to die?" Feliciano asked from his place on the floor.

The blond opened his mouth before shutting it again. Quietly he passed the coffees out. Feliciano just stared at the floor, tired, blowing gently at his mug. "How—how was I supposed to die?" he tried once more. His tone was no longer choked.

The British man cleared his throat. "Lovino was meant to kill you."

Lovino hated hated hated that fucking sad smile that Feliciano took on. He hated everything about it. He hated how his exterior fell away quicker than his mug. The yelps as Feliciano jumped away from the sloshing liquids. He hated the window that looked out on the world, because he knew that if he ran at it he would only hit wall. He hated that no matter how hard he tried to keep his cool everything he knew crumbled. "What?" he demanded. "I—I wouldn't. I would easily choose to kill Ludwig!"

Arthur helped Feliciano up, careful of the now shattered ceramic. Carefully the blond took Feliciano's coffee and grabbed his hand, outstretching the boy's arm and turning it so that the scar of Lovino's burns were easily seen. "Originally you never stopped and burned out his heart."

Lovino stuttered back into a sitting position. Not only had he hurt him, he had set out to kill him. The boy's desperation and sadness had been so strong, and he had  _fed_  off of it. He had enjoyed it. Lapped it up. He had looked out to take it all—to—to—Lovino sunk his head into his hands shaking his head.

If the court didn't decide that he was a monster, then he would have to go above the fucking law and decide it himself.

Fuck he needed to stop crying.

"Feliciano, I'm sure you see the extent of the situation." The boy didn't respond. "It is in your best interest that you let us send you back to your timeline once your wounds have healed."

"What about Lovino?"

"No matter what the court decides he will have to stay here. If they find him innocent, he will be forced to go through a course so that he can learn to control his powers."

"And if they find him guilty?"

Silence said it all.

"No," Feliciano said suddenly. "No, I'm not leaving."

"This really isn't a situation for you to be in. Once he learns to control it—"

"No! I'm not leaving!" Feliciano said, a bit sterner. "You said he was supposed to kill me? Well, he didn't. That must mean something."

"Yes, it means you got lucky!"

Lovino listened as the door was opened. A new voice joined the conversation: Gilbert. "Arthur."

"Gilbert, I'm busy. Can this wait?"

"I'm not leaving," Feliciano repeated, "so go ahead and do whatever he wants."

"I don't—" Gilbert paused, "Arthur, I don't think you understand the situation."

"Have you been listening?"

"The Golden Mean."

"Means nothing if the boy dies!" Arthur insisted.

"What is that?" Feliciano demanded.

"It's a—"

"It's irrelevant."

"We can train him." Ludwig. "But if you send him back without telling him anything, no matter how good Lovino gets at controlling his powers it still won't make up for Feliciano's short-comings. If he decides that he wants to stay, then let him."

"We don't even know if he's innocent."

"Let's plan as if he is. I really don't think that They're going to let the chaos bloodline die out. They need him. He's the first one to recognize powers for countless generations."

"And," Gilbert added, "if you want to catch Antonio I have a feeling you're going to need him. Your foot soldiers aren't going to apprehend him in time if he's—if he's already started figuring out the clock."

"We'll make it work."

"Don't take unnecessary risks."

There was a long pause. Lovino tried to calm his breaths and will away the moisture on his cheeks before he looked up. He stared at his feet for a long time.

"What is the Golden Mean?" Feliciano asked again. "You said something about it when we were at the motel."

"The god Lovino is descended from was immensely powerful," Arthur sighed "but also rimming with darkness. In time of her creation it was a big deal, something that threw balance so far off that it looked like she would consume the world with hatred. However, as nature will work, there was something able to balance out her darkness in the end. For her, it was a bear."

"A bear?"

"Essentially. It was her spirit animal, a peaceful, calm creature that she had demanded be sacrificed in her name. Within its death the simple creature found its place at Chaos's side. She thought it was the spirit's way to spite her, but with time it was obvious that just the presence of the creature calmed her and kept her from such ruthless lengths. It offered her the presence of love and compassion that was impossible for her to create."

"Of course, it wasn't enough to keep her from massacring millions of people," Ludwig mused from the background.

"Which is why she is no longer here," Arthur sighed. "The Golden Mean refers to the bond between Chaos—or a direct descendent of Chaos's—and a balancing force."

"I—I don't—you must have it wrong," Feliciano said with a sad laugh. "I think I make Lovino madder than anyone else does. It's—I'm really not the best influence on him. I'm no spirit bear."

Why was he so fucking dumb? Why couldn't just accept that he was worth something? Lovino fucking hated him.

"Impossible." Ludwig said. "If that was true then you wouldn't be alive. When Lovino tried to kill you, it wasn't him that stopped him. You did."

"I didn't do anything!" Feliciano pushed back. "I—I just—"

"You survived because you were able to help him balance."

Gilbert laughed. "Anyway, only a Chaos and a Mean can truly kill a  _Hollow_. So, unless you're claiming that that whole ordeal was an accident too then you should just accept it."

"So what does it mean?" Lovino demanded, sick of people talking about him as if her weren't sitting  _right there_. He finally raised his eyes. Everyone looked back at him. Everyone except Feliciano. "I can't be a regular fucking person without someone attached to my god damn hip?"

"Golden Mean or not, you're never going to be a regular person," Arthur said with a shake of his head.

"Great." Lovino growled under his breath.

"Feliciano, if you stay it won't be easy." Ludwig said slowly.

Feliciano shook his head slowly. There was so much conflict written on his face. "I—I don't care. I want to help anyway I can."

Of course he did. He always wanted to  _help_. Lovino laughed. "Just leave. Go back, work with Alfred, I don't care."

Feliciano refused to look at him still. "No, I'm going to stay."

"It's dangerous," Arthur joined.

"Just go. You heard them: doesn't matter if you stay or not."

He couldn't let Feliciano stay. What if he got angry again? What if the next time he went toe-to-toe with him he hurt him beyond recovery? Lovino wouldn't be able to live with himself. The fucking Brit was right. It was dangerous, and Feliciano was being the same reckless idiot he always was.

Finally, Feliciano looked at him. Lovino bit his tongue, focusing on the pain of that instead of the rising emotions that shot through his core. "I'm staying."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Did you guys know that Fiver Finger Death Punch, Nevermore, AND Breaking Benjamin are all on tour TOGETHER! It's honestly the best thing this world has ever put together._

_I'm sorry that these last chapters have just been information dumps, but I really can't put all this info in without doing so. I hope it clears up some of the confusion, as well. The next chapter we get to dive into court, and then after that it gets fun, so stick around, babes!_

_Also, the next chapter is going to be out right away. Sorry there's so many updates in a row—I'm sure some of you guys are sick of it by now, but I reaaaally want to get this fic finished. Honestly the end battles are just kfksnflslfmsnv_

Comment! You you could have a Golden Mean, what animal would it be? Or would you rather a person?


	20. Vingt

"They're ready for you," a man said to Lovino.

Lovino wiped his hands on his pants and sucked a great breath through his nose. He had been able to shower, and they offered him a new set of clothes. They weren't exactly his style, and he abandoned the coat as soon as someone looked away, but now in a thin shirt and baggy almost track pants Lovino felt underdressed. The man led Lovino through the door and into a room filled with chairs evolving around the entrance. People, of course, occupied said chairs, all staring and boring into him. A small stand sat lonely in the middle of the room and Lovino took it with as much confidence that he could muster.

He looked out onto the crowd. Behind them great designs were graved into the walls, above them were a million stars in a darkening sky. He had been relieved to find out that the sky  _did_  darken, but he had been told that there was no system to follow it by. It was at the gods' whims what the sky did. Clouds whirled around the structure, causing the designs to almost dance around the room like lively shadows. Lovino straightened when a man sitting directly in front of him stood. Glasses sat diligently on the base of his long, beak-like nose, and he read from a stack of papers.

"You are being accused of unjustly using your powers to manipulate a human," the man's voice boomed against the interior, "and both attempted and successful homicide." Lovino nodded. "How do you plead?"

Guilty. He was guilty. But he was told what to say: "Not guilty." Arthur sat in one of the chairs, his position in the Confraternity making him one of the voices that could potentially damn Lovino to hell. Wait, did hell even exist? Lovino should ask when this was all over. "I was under the impression of my bloodline for the first time and couldn't've possibly known what was happening or how to deal with it."

"Is it not true that you admitted to having visions before the encounter with Emma James?"

Lovino had learned that to be the name of the blond that he had driven both blind and mentally insane. Lovino swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Yes."

"And did that not give any indication that something strange was happening? Did you ever seek out answers to your problems?"

"No and no. I thought them hallucinations due to stress. I—I changed professions to deal with it."

"And that was how you came into contact with Natalie Arlovskaya?"

"Yes."

"And how did the proceedings of that encounter happen?"

"I—I had a vision that she was in danger, and so I stayed in the area to try and help her."

"A feat in which you failed?"

"Yes."

"And your actions in killing a  _Hollow_ is what got the girl killed, is it not?"

"Objection!" A woman called from the crowd. "That fact is irrelevant to the case of his guilt."

"I—Yes, it is," Lovino answered, "but it was not my intention to bring her harm. I thought that I was helping."

"Did you think that you were helping when you used your powers against Ms. James?"

Lovino recoiled a bit. "I—I thought so, yes," he responded quietly. "But!" he said a bit louder, his hand making a desperate motion at the crowd. "I was only doing my best t help. When—The way that—I meant no harm personally, but the influence I was under caused my actions to—seem…justified?"

"You were under no influence," someone new shouted. "You were following your own thoughts, and so the actions were yours."

A wave of murmurs broke across the people. Lovino shook his head, trying not to look at any of them directly. Fear and something of stage fright seemed to hold Lovino in place as his mind ran. He was right, of course, and Lovino knew that. Lovino's actions were his own. He had found joy from it, a release, what did his current guilt matter? Lovino didn't deserve the mercy of this court or of any court.

He caught Arthur's ready stare in the sea of judgement.

_"I just don't think—I don't want to be found innocent!"_

_"You will be killed."_

_"I don't care."_

_"You might not but do realize that your life goes beyond you. If you throw this trial, you are only continuing your selfish nature. If you want to find some closure for the misery you have already caused, then getting yourself killed is not the way to go."_

Lovino blinked his gaze away. If he was going to make up for what he did, he was going to have to live, which fucking sucked because the guilt and torturous thoughts that raked through his head were killing him. It was strange that Chaos would decide to have a human child. Did she not understand that humans were not  _all_  bad? That they were creatures that found themselves as their worst enemies. Did she only see the worst parts? The war and the murder lust? Perhaps it was her way of trying to make some perfect human. He now made it his mission to become a disgrace to her name. No matter how much irritation filtered through him, he would try to find some way to bring value into the world.

He just hoped that his efforts weren't put to waste as they have been so far.

"The actions were mine," Lovino said. A deep shush spread across the stage. He took a deep breath. "And I can never take them back. I can never make it up. I…I am guilty." He shook his head quickly, trying to shut up the people that started talking. "I'm not looking for your sympathy or for you to understand!" he yelled over them, digging his nails into the podium and staring at them with an almost desperate fever. "All I am looking for is a way—a way to move on from here. I want to learn how to control this. I want…I want to bring something good from this destructive nature! Because there is good in it. I'm sure of it! I just have to  _learn_."

"There is no good in chaos!"

"Demolition is all that it has brought up until now!"

"Only an insane man would think that such a power could bring good."

Lovino could feel his anger flash. "Then title me insane! Shackle me and kill me! Go ahead—fight destruction with death! Or maybe, just maybe, trust that there can be a balance." His arms shook from his grip, and he could almost feel the wood start to give way under him as he yelled. They stewed in their ignorance and their ideals. What did they know? Why did they get to decide what happens from here? If Lovino was going to set out to do good, then he would. He would show them! He would do good, damn it. " Is that not what this is all about? Finding a balance? Well, let me tell you, sunshine and rainbows all the fucking time won't get you that. Kill me, and you shoot yourself in the foot!" They were idiots, the whole lot of them.

"There will always be chaos, you mean nothing to the nature of that." A woman sneered at him, taking a stand. "You are a murderer. You have taken your powers and ruined lives. Who is to say that you will not take advantage of control? Can you promise us that you will not decide to take another life to save your own? Why should we give you some free pass? Just because your blood? There have been countless of Chaos's children, and practically all of them have kept themselves from  _killing_."

Arthur stood. "I don't think that has anything to do with it.  _They_  did not come into their powers. We cannot judge him based on the actions of others!"

"Then judge him on his own actions!"

"Okay, then we shall judge him on wanting to save a girl. We will judge him on making a sacrifice to not only save himself, but to save two of our foot soldiers! If he hadn't, they would have all died. Was that not the right choice?" Arthur pushed back.

"The original script brought him here to be condemned, Kirkland," a man said pointedly at Arthur. "You fully accepted and supported that decision. You met them so that you could take him into immediate custody. What changed?"

"The future did," Arthur decided. "The original string predicted that he would have killed for the pure lust of it. The original string brought him here still shrouded in darkness. But he did not and was not! I believe that he can change, that he can grow! He has already proven it by rewriting the future."

"Can we trust a man that we can not keep tabs on?" Someone demanded. "If he changed the future once, who says that he won't do it again?"

Arthur looked professional through it all, despite his voice growing more frustrated. "We do not condemn based on the string. There is a reason for that!"

"But he has already killed! We can condemn him for that!"

"Look at the context! He cannot be held responsible for his actions here." Someone else defended.

And slowly, Lovino watched as the whole court broke into yelling. He didn't know what to listen to, everyone had an opinion. Was he to die or was he to be trained? Could he be trusted? Could he be forgiven?

No one asked Lovino's opinion.

"Quiet! Order!" the man with the beak nose yelled. A hush descended. "Do you have any last words?" he asked Lovino. Lovino shook his head. "Then we will take a vote."

Lovino couldn't watch, but he couldn't take his eyes away from the hands that raised to each question and the murmurs of "I." A young boy bounced around, taking quick tally before handing his count up to the beak nosed man. He fixed his glasses and quickly took in the information.

"By four votes, Lovino Gaspari is found innocent by the court." A loud murmur, but none of it was louder than Lovino's heart. He—He had won? "He will be moved to the court of the Order after a short intermission," the man said.

And just like that Lovino was rushed off his podium, Arthur pulling his arm as they walked amongst the crowd. Ludwig, Gilbert, and Feliciano met them outside the door, pressing to the wall so that they weren't trampled by the shuffling crowds.

"How'd it go?" Gilbert asked as they walked.

"He was found innocent, but now he needs to prepare to be put in front of the gods."

Lovino tore his arm away so he could walk independently. Quickly they dipped down the stairs and back into their waiting room.

"What was that?" Arthur demanded. "You cannot yell at the court. You especially can't lose your temper with the gods!"

"They were being dumb," Lovino sneered. "They had already decided my fate before I even walked in, so what was the point?  _I_  didn't need to be there!"

"You yelled at them and still managed to be found innocent?" Gilbert laughed, throwing himself into one of the armchairs. "You got guts."

"Don't encourage him," Ludwig sighed.

"You need to respect them nonetheless. If you pull that little stunt, and  _tell the gods to kill you_ , then they will! When you are put in front of the gods, you will  _not_  speak unless spoken to. You will bow, and stayed bowed,  _the whole time_. You will bit your tongue, you will refer to none of them by name, and you will not look  _any_  of them in the eye. To them you are dirt. Realize that now and yell about it later."

Lovino frowned, stepping to the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. They sounded like a bundle of bastards.

"Do you understand?" Arthur demanded.

Lovino stared out. The darkening skies really were pretty. The wonky trees looked like silhouettes of strange creatures under the shadows. Still they did not move, perfectly still. It was as if they stood in the eye of a storm. One that reached for miles. Lovino thought over what Arthur said, and found a petty feeling behind every word. He was to be submissive. That's what the British man was telling him to do. To become a fucking rug—no, to become less than that. He was to muster up every drop of respect that  _he_  had to not gain a penny's worth of theirs.

A sharp, short laugh. "Talk about balance."

"Do you understand?" Arthur repeated.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Message is crystal."

"Lovino." Lovino hadn't realized how close Feliciano had gotten, and his voice scared him, causing his heart to thrum. "Please don't get yourself killed." Lovino cleared his throat, moving away from the boy as he turned to look at him. He didn't share a smile or a look of confidence. He didn't look up at Lovino with worry or fear. His tone was dry, and so were his features as he mindlessly picked at the hem of his shirt, eyes set on Lovino's face.

"I—I won't," Lovino stuttered with a huff, looking back out the wall quickly. "I already said that I understood, idiot."

"I'm serious."

"Yeah, I heard you."

There was a gentle silence, and Lovino didn't know what this feeling was, but he was sure he'd find out. He was anxious to step in front of the gods. He would be in denial if he claimed anything else.  _Gods_. Such a term was shrouded by mockery in his head. There were no such thing as gods. Well, there hadn't been up until now. Lovino willed himself to relax, closing his eyes and picturing the great doors that he would be pushed through in mere moments. He wasn't dumb, he knew Arthur wouldn't be there to protect him this time. No one would be there to defend him, and if he couldn't speak then he wouldn't be able to defend himself, either.

Gilbert said that they were closed minded, so really Lovino's trial was just going to be a show for the fucktards. A humiliation game.

He could feel Feliciano's presence still beside him. Peeking, he watched as the boy stared out into the  _night_. The bruises and scrapes on his face were still painfully apparent. It humbled Lovino's growing vexation. Lovino blinked away. Guilt; he would let that tie his tongue in front of the gods.

Well, he would try.

"They're ready."

Lovino turned and started towards the door. A hand caught his arm, and suddenly he was wrapped in a hug. "Please don't be stupid. I know how prideful you are, Lovino. Please, just take it. Please don't—Please—"

Lovino was stiff. His mind flashed to the warehouse. The bodies, Feliciano's tears as he begged for Lovino to not kill the detective. His sadness, his misery, the way his eyes glowed in defiance.

Lovino couldn't return the hug. He pushed Feliciano away, trying him damndest to keep his breathing under control. To keep his feet from running. No, he couldn't control whatever this power was. What if he got angry again? What if next time Feliciano wasn't able to stop him? What if he—no, no, he couldn't, wouldn't. Fuck, the kid was stupid for staying.

Swallowing, Lovino just offered a stiff nod. "Okay."

Feliciano just stared. He had always been a touchy one, and Lovino had pushed him away a million and a half times.  _"Too close. Seriously, bastard, have you ever heard of personal space?"_ And the kid had brushed it off a million times before, wide grins and chuckles and teasing. But now he just stared.

Lovino didn't know what he was feeling, but it was going to kill him before the gods got a chance.

"We need to go."

Lovino nodded, turning and leaving without offering anything verbal to the kid. Lovino knew that he was hurt, but maybe that would just make him reconsider the offer of being sent back. Arthur offered him something of a "Good luck" smile before Lovino was sent into the hall with a stranger.

* * *

Lovino kept his eyes downcast as he had been instructed. The floor was white, almost blindingly so. His shoes scuffed against their perfection. If brought him a small sense of accomplishment. He wasn't sure how far he was supposed to walk, so he stopped at what he thought must be the middle of the room. There were no chairs, no podium, nothing to focus on. He peeked up, just slightly, but it looked like he had been shuffled into an empty room. Large pole-like designs vined up the walls, black and grey with intertwining blue and white designs. Lovino risked a real look at the room.

It was huge, circular,  _beautiful_. Lovino wasn't really one to find beauty or aesthetics in architecture, but something about the grandeur of this room settled a true sense of admiration onto him. He turned, feeling truly small in the ceiling-less area.

He even risked a look at the sky.

His heart dropped like a stone, anxiety replacing the feeling of comfortable isolation that had filled him moments prior. Above him, was blackness. It was shadowed and swirling, settled against the walls. Lovino stepped back, losing his footing and falling on the floor. All he could do was look up with wide eyes.

A deep chortle bounced around the room. Another joined, and another, and suddenly the shadows were laughing and mocking him.

And then Lovino caught on. The gods. He hurried onto his knees, bowing his head to the floor desperately, his eyes screwed shut. The laughing continued.

And then it stopped.

"So, this is the descendent of Chaos?"

"How pathetic."

"I expected more when I heard it was a man. This is nothing more than a boy."

"He is mortal, you must realize that you cannot expect much from those."

"Well, boy, will you not stand and look at us?"

Was this a trick? Lovino had been given direct orders to not do exactly that. Slowly he picked himself up and returned his gaze to the sky.

"Well?" One of the shadows cooed. "What do you think?"

"I—Think about what?"

Another chorus of laughter. "About being face-to-face with gods, of course."

Lovino was at a loss of words. A loss of thought. What did he think? "It's nothing special," he said truthfully. "I thought you guys would look…human?"

"Even now, generations later Chaos's bloodline can still see true forms."

"It is to be expected. One who is keen in manipulation is hard to manipulate."

Lovino wanted to snap at them, to demand what their judgement was, but he kept his mouth shut.  _Speak only when spoken to_. It was derailing!

"It shows his power. It is no surprise that he has already accomplished what he has."

 _Accomplished_  was the last word Lovino would use to describe it.

"So," the original voice commanded, "the question is what we do with him."

"Let him train. He is no use to us dead."

"Yes."

The original voice; "does anyone have any qualms against letting him live?"

There was silence. Lovino chewed on his cheek. Of course they wouldn't. They were gods. The Confraternity had been too attached to the thought of life. The ones he stood before now did not concern themselves with such trivial matters. He could have almost laughed. They were sick, and it would play in his interest. Or disinterest. He still wasn't sure if he agreed with Arthur's spiels.

"Then it is decided. You are free, boy."

And then the doors opened and he was supposed to leave. Lovino furrowed his brows, glancing at the door. He could leave now? He should leave now. But—"Is that all?" he demanded. "You bring me in here to laugh at me, and then send me away? What was the point of me coming in here?"

There was tension in the air, now. No mocking laughter, no scornful tones. Silences.

Lovino felt that he had made a mistake, but as was his pattern he stuck to his decision to speak. He stared upwards, ignoring the kink that had settled in his neck.

And then he heard the doors close behind him.

He clenched his fist.

"You don't like our judgement, boy?"

"Don't call me boy. My name is Lovino."

"Your name," the voice was loud, surrounding, shaking the walls, "is irrelevant!"

Lovino gnashed his teeth. No, his name was not irrelevant.  _He_ was not irrelevant. The fear that had bowed his head earlier was left at his feet. "It is not me that is irrelevant, it is you!"

"Watch your tongue."

"Great power and yet you are rendered to sitting here, laughing and judging!" Lovino continued. "Your mockery is nothing but ironic! You may hold power over me, but that is the extent of your rein. Humanity no longer needs you. You are useless."

**"Watch your tongue."**

Lovino's heart palpitated, and he lowered his head slightly. What was he doing? What was he saying? Fuck. Why was he so intent on making enemies? Even if he was right, and those above him were bitch-faced fucktards.

Still, he stood defiantly. He would not be made a fool of here! He would not just take it as he was laughed at. As they played with the idea of his life like a toy. It infuriated him, lighting a red hot rage in his chest.

"Make an example out of him."

"Set him up like Promtheus!"

"Throw him in the sea with a rock tied to his foot."

"Silence!"

Lovino's fist shook now. Once again he was at the mercy to their judgement.

"You do not wish to be free?"

" _I do not wish_  to be belittled."

"You are human."

"You are god. Shall we continue pointing out the obvious?"

Another voice. "He does take after Chaos."

"Too much so."

"He is a threat to us if Chaos's influence is too strong."

"Silence! You are putting your life on the line for nothing. You are proving nothing to anyone."

"I do not need to prove anything." Lovino insisted, though he wasn't sure how honest he was being.

"What is it that you seek?"

Lovino's tongue formed around the word respect, but he quickly scraped the idea. He did not need their respect. They were nothing.

"You do not know?"

"What does it matter what I want?" Lovino demanded.

"He's impulsive!"

"We cannot grant him the freedom to grow into his power!"

The original voice: "You speak out and disrespect us on a basis of not even knowing what you want?"

"I want—I want—" Lovino could scream!

"He doesn't know!"

"Kill him."

"He will be too easily controlled!"

Lovino growled. "I want you all to shut up!" He screamed. "I want to learn how to control my powers—but not to be some stupid tool for the lot of you to use. I am of no use to you."

"Then tell me why we should let you live."

Lovino smirked, ridicule bubbling at the base of his throat. "The world doesn't revolve around you guys anymore. Sorry."

Hell broke loose. The lot of them fought—or, at least yelled, it seemed that they all could agree that Lovino was to be put to death. Lovino watched, bemuse. Shadows moved and danced, and even from his place he could feel their anguish and anger and even a hint of fear in some. He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

At his hands he had unraveled the composure of the gods.

**"Silence!"**

"Take another vote!" Someone screamed.

"All those who wish to put him to death?"

A commotion of sounds. And then dead silence.

Lovino stared upwards. Put him to death, go ahead. It wouldn't make them any stronger, any  _better_. He grinned. He didn't have anything to prove, yet they found a way to prove his point. How ironic.

And then the original voice was back. "You are free, boy."

Lovino blinked, taken aback. "What?" he demanded.

The others seemed just as confused as he did. "We set it to a vote, Anubis! You cannot just decide this on your own!"

"You all let your ego guide your decisions," Anubis replied calmly. "If we put him to death, then we are no better then him."

Lovino scowled at the sky.

"He is free to train." Anubis continued. "Though he will not be free to leave. Boy, you will be kept under careful watch. Slip up and you will be put to death."

The door opened again. Lovino looked back, seeing his group in the waiting room beyond, all looking frazzled and worried. Lovino threw one last look at the gods before turning to leave.

"And, boy,"

"Lovino."

"Do not forget your place."

Lovino gnashed his teeth.

"Understand?"

"Perfectly."

* * *

"Lovino!" Feliciano cried as the large doors closed. "Lovino, what did you do? Why did they—"

"You didn't listen to me," Arthur joined in.

"What was the judgement?"

The questions and concerned continued on and on, but Lovino was too lost in his head to listen or care. "Tell me," he finally said, breaking the chorus of cries. "Who is Anubis?"

There was a curious silence. Arthur is the one who answered. "He is the god of the underworld. Why?"

Lovino couldn't help it.

He laughed.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Lovino is a butthole, I think we can all agree on that point._

_Okay, so I am writing this as quick as possible because there might me another unrelated itacest fic that I want to write, but I refuse to start it until this one is done. It will be shorter than this one, of course, with a lot less plot, but I think that it will just be so fun to write._

_COMMENT! I'm curious, d_ _o you guys prefer related or unrelated itacest? I, obviously, personally prefer unrelated, but there are like no other unrelated itacest fics, so I'm wondering whether or not this is low-key disappointing the shippers-aside from the fact that there is practically no romance whatsoever and we're already almost 90k in. Haha, I would apologize but I'm not sorry._


	21. Vingt et Un

"Put these on."

Feliciano, Arthur, and Lovino stood in a clearing in the trees. The sky, once again, was bright, but no matter how far either way Lovino looked he couldn't find a sun. The sky wasn't blue today, either. It took on a strangely yellow glow, faint clouds pulling along strings of orange. Their area wasn't just a vast clearing. It was sectioned off by multiple arena-like pits. Feliciano blinked curiously at the black gloves that were presented to him. He took them carefully, pulling them on to find that they were fingerless.

"What are they for?" he asked.

"It's to keep you safe. You've decided to stay therefore you have to protect yourself against what could happen." Arthur said. "You cannot deny that Lovino is dangerous."

Lovino cleared his throat. "Right here."

"The gloves will protect your heart." Arthur continued. "Wear them at all times."

Feliciano stared at them for a long moment before he nodded. "Alright, I can do that!"

Lovino shook his head. He didn't know how the kid could be so accepting, sound  _happy_ ; did he not understand? He was just given armor to fend off Lovino. Lovino still couldn't comprehend why the boy was there.

A shuffling elapsed before Ludwig came out of the tree line. He wore a tank-top and a pair of what looked like army pants. "Sorry I'm late," he said quickly, wrapping his hand with white tape.

"Not an issue, we just got here ourselves." Arthur said. "Alright, Feliciano, you will work with Ludwig. He is going to teach you how to fight properly. Through strength of body you will find strength of mind."

Feliciano nodded. "Okay."

Lovino frowned, sizing up the tall blond. He wasn't that strong, Lovino decided snipingly.

"Lovino," Arthur continued, cutting off the brunet's line of thought, "you will be working with me."

Lovino chuckled. "No offence, but you don't look like that great of a sparring partner."

Arthur looked almost bemused but brushed aside the comment. "We will be working on your control."

Lovino blinked, looking around quickly. "Alright, but how? It seems that my powers need  _people_."

"We're not working on your powers. Follow me."

Arthur led them away from the arena area and into the trees once more. Lovino threw a glance over his shoulder. Feliciano was grinning up at Ludwig, the tall blond nodding gently. Lovino really didn't like the blond. He was a bitch.

Huffing, he turned to focus on where he was walking. "So," he started, their walking growing long and tedious through the thick forest. Lovino brushed aside a tall branch that threatened to take his eyes out. "The gloves that you gave Feliciano, what do you mean that they'll protect his heart?"

"The left hand has a single vein that leads straight to the heart," Arthur explained. "Your powers are unique. They are able to play on energies and feelings similar to the way a magnified glass can with the sun. You have the ability to focus strong emotions to the point of physical consequence; burning. It makes the palms the most perceptible to your abilities. Not only are they the main preceptors of  _touch_ , causing emotions tied to them to be much stronger than that of sight, taste, or anything auditable, they are linked directly to the operator of the body. Feliciano's gloves will protect his heart from you if there ever is a situation like before."

"There won't be," Lovino promised.

"Let's hope not."

"So, that's what happened with that one Emma chick—and with the detective."

Arthur nodded, using a hanging vine to balance himself as he made his way diligently over a fallen tree. "Yes. The face is tied to the other sensory details, and so your intuition to go for the face was no surprise. It will provide information over destruction."

The thought of these abilities left almost a sick taste in Lovino's mouth. Here they were, hiking through the trees, calmly talking about this as if Lovino hadn't literally ruined a woman's life, killed a man, and almost killed his best friend.

As they walked, the growing rush of water grew louder and louder. They broke into an area. The sound was deafening, but when Lovino looked onto the scene, he was forced to furrow his brows. A grand waterfall stood in front of him, but the water didn't move. A picturesque still of life, the body of water below it still.

"What?" Lovino yelled over the roar. "How is it doing that?"

"We call it the Still Fall," Arthur explained. "No one has ever seen it move. Follow."

Lovino's amazement only continued when Arthur proceeded to walk directly into the pool of water. More so, he walked across it. Lovino timidly followed.

Staring downward Lovino saw movements of impossibly bright and vivid colors. They swam, darting away from the two shadows that now stood above them. Lovino stared, entranced.

"Come on."

Lovino shook himself out of it. Quickly he followed the British man toward the base of the immobile fall. The sound screamed and howled into the air. Lovino covered his ears. Arthur continued, passing through the wall of the water. Lovino blinked. It hadn't looked normal—the water hadn't moved at all! Quickly Lovino followed.

The other side was silent except for a gentle wind. Lovino swallowed, making sure his feet were on stable ground before taking in the scene. He and Arthur stood on what looked to be the peek of a mountain. Great dips and divots, green and browns and the whole spectrum of purple, stretched out around them. It seemed forever. Some hills reached into the yellow sky, surrounded by perfectly white clouds, others seemed to dive into the earth—er, ah, land—deeper than any ocean trench. Lovino looked around, but there was no wall of water.

"What?" he demanded. "How—how did—"

"It was a portal," Arthur said calmly, sitting down. "Now sit."

"How do we get back?" Lovino demanded.

"Sit."

"We are on the top of a mountain. I'm not sitting until you tell me how to get back!"

Arthur sighed, impatient. "Turn around and walk forward."

Lovino shook his head. Doing that would literally send him spiraling off the cliff! "Are you trying to kill me?" he demanded.

"Walk or sit."

Lovino decided to sit.

"Close your eyes."

Lovino did so, following the next order of taking a deep breath. The winds were nice, he had to admit. Gentle and warm. The air was actually warm, here. It was curious. Last time Lovino checked, the top of mountains was cold, and the air was supposed to be thin. However, here, none of these things seemed to be true. He wasn't complaining, just noting.

They sat there for a long time. Just breathing. Lovino was growing impatient, the gravelly dirt beneath him becoming extremely uncomfortable. He shifted, arching his back, trying to get it to pop. "How long are we going to be doing this?" he groaned, rubbing at his eyes.

"Time is irrelevant here," the other whispered back.

Lovino sent him a glare. It went unappreciated, the blond fully immersed with what he was doing. Which, by the way, was absolutely nothing. "I don't see the point of this. All we're doing is sitting here. Yeah, yeah, meditation and shit, but I'm not feeling stressed or anything right now, so it's useless."

"Focus your breath."

"Why! There's no point to that!" Irritation was on his tongue, and he moved to stretch out his legs. "My  _breath_  doesn't have any power. This isn't some ancient fucking Kong Fu. I'm not the Karate kid, okay? I feel it would be of more use to me to learn how to control my emotions while I'm  _fighting_. When it's quiet nothing happens!"

"And yet you're getting angry now."

"Yeah, because we don't have time for this—don't. Antonio is out there—" with possible blueprints to destroy time itself—"and us sitting on top of a mountain isn't going to find and stop him! I need to learn how to fight and control my powers—not how to breathe."

Arthur sighed. "You're not special." He ground. "This mission doesn't depend on you. With or without you we will succeed."

"But if I can control this then I could at least help!" He wanted to help. That was his goal, damn it, to do something useful!

"You need to be patient!" Arthur shouted. "If you can't stop and  _stay_  you will be nothing but a casualty."

"I—"

"I am not arguing with you, Lovino. Now close your eyes and breath."

A sharp feeling pierced Lovino's chest. He felt like a scolded child. Pursing his lips, he huffed back in a crisscross position, screwing his eyes shut.

* * *

Every muscle ached. He never imagined that sitting and doing nothing would take such a toll on his body. Groaning he fell backwards. "I'm starving," he whined.

"We will go back to eat soon," Arthur said, standing and stretching.

Lovino groaned again. "What more do we have to do?"

"You wanted to fight, didn't you?"

Lovino sat up eagerly. "I get to fight you?"

"No."

Damn. What he would do for a free pass to punch the British Breather in the face. "Then who am I fighting? Can I eat first?"

"Not  _who_ ,  _what_." Lovino blinked. Intriguing, but also probably animal cruelty. "Now stand up." Arthur rolled up his sleeve to reveal a watch a lot like Ludwig's. He fiddled with it for a moment before a sudden flash of light engulfed everything. Lovino blinked and backed away, fear for falling off the mountain suddenly apparent as his steps faltered and he was hurdled backwards.

He screamed as he fell, closing his eyes to the light and flailing his arms.

Cold suddenly surrounded him. He gasped, sitting up in the shallow body of water that he had fallen into. "What the hell!" he exclaimed, looking around himself.

He sat in a dismal swamp. The sky here was no longer yellow, but green, with dark foreboding clouds above them. Vines and grass and swamp pads and vegetation that moved seemingly independently of the wind were royal beneath the sky. Royal purples and greens and reds. Even the water that now covered Lovino's lap was muddy and brown.

"Where are we?" Lovino asked slowly.

"It's the Neverworld." Arthur offered him a hand. Lovino quickly took it. "Chaos was creative and fashioned many Neverborns during her time. However, when it came time to destroy them, and for her to gather her own energy back, it was found that she couldn't regain it all. There was still a piece of her that existed. They were never technically born, so they couldn't go onto the normal afterlife. So, Anubis created this world, the Neverworld, so that these sentient energies would not have to be destroyed all together."

Lovino took in the scenery with a new feeling of appreciation. A winding tree a few paces off, one that grew into the clouds, held a creature that cawed dangerously at them.

"There is some wildlife that has migrated here," Arthur admitted, "but very little comparatively. Chaos's Neverborns certainly took after her." He started forward. Lovino followed without verbal direction.

"So," he said, "does your watch-thing transport you anywhere?"

"Only to places that aren't affected by the string. If I want to jump onto a timeline, I must use a clock."

"Can the clock transport you anywhere?"

"No, the clock's dictation is only to what the string controls and the land without time. It cannot travel to any of the other worlds." Lovino nodded thoughtfully. The question as to how many words there were, exactly, was scared away from his tongue when Arthur shot up his arm.

Suddenly the water beneath them began to ripple and twist. Lovino watched intensively, admittedly afraid. Was he really ready to fight a direct piece of Chaos? He was generations and generations from her full power. These, though, were created  _from_ her.

"Don't. Move." Arthur drug.

Lovino held his breath, watching. An ebony creature rose from the depths of the water. Something like oil bled from every one of its pores, its whole body black aside from the tip of what Lovino assumed to be its nose. The nose was starred, rashly red, and jumped through the air, back and forth like a ball on a tennis table.

It let out a terrible screech before falling back into the waters. Lovino watched as the ripples disappeared.

Arthur dropped his hand, and Lovino drew a painful gulp of breath. His heart pounded with anxiety and fear, and he suddenly wasn't too keen on fighting anymore. "We're not fighting something like that, right?" he asked despairingly.

"No, we're not." Arthur chided. "You are, though."

"Take the low hanging fruit, why don't you."

Arthur chuckled, continuing forward. "Don't worry. You won't be fighting anything like that. You will be fighting something much stronger, and much more dangerous."

"Why?"

"Because you're right. Antonio is on the move. You need to learn to control yourself, so we will start by setting you up against the closest things to yourself that we can manage."

"A Neverborn."

"One of the last of the Neverborns." He paused, and Lovino could feel his heart dropping when he realized there was a deep cavern jutting towards them, mouth open wide. Lovino almost thought that it was a Neverborn itself. A whisper of movement, of shadow, moved from inside. "You will fight Khorne."

Lovino watched with wide eyes as the shadow grew, coming closer to the caverns opening. His veins thudded and popped.

Maybe they should consider finding the water mole.

"I—I can't just go up there and ask him to fight me," Lovino said, very manly, because he was a man and not a squealing little girl. (Fuck how Arthur tells it.)

"You can."

"I really can't."

He really couldn't. His feet wouldn't move, petrified by fear. Maybe if he was given the opportunity to run away they would, but right now he couldn't. "I think—Yeah I think all the meditation fucked me up. We'll have to come back when I'm more reckless."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "This is a trial. You must learn to defeat them to truly learn to control your powers."

"And who says that? People training for chess don't start monarchies! I could—I could do something else, surely."

"Do be careful." He had totally ignored Lovino's suggestion! "The four final Neverborns are the most powerful. They were never partially destroyed."

"That is the worst thing you could say right now."

Arthur smirked—fuck him. "I could tell you that you automatically get an STD if you touch them."

"Shut up!"

"Or grow an extra limb if they catch your scent."

"No!"

"Cancer on the rocks?"

Lovino fixed him with the meanest glare he could muster. The blond just quirked a simple brow. Lovino huffed.

"In all seriousness," Arthur continued, "this is a trial of your strength, both against yourself and of Khorne, but it is also proof to the Confraternity, the Order, me, and your friend that your little goal to use your powers for good aren't just something you spewed to get out of trouble." His green eyes were almost fatherly. "So ask yourself whether you were telling the truth, and whether you truly believe that you can use chaos for good."

Lovino frowned. He was right. He was going to regret this later—if later ever came, but then again  _time was irrelevant_ , ugh—but if he was truly going to take the reins to whatever fucking powers he possessed, he would have to put in the effort. Unfortunately, this wasn't one of those things where putting effort forth meant studying or running an extra mile. The powers he possessed could kill. Have killed. To take control of them, he would have to put his life on the line.

He nodded and set his sights forward. "Alright," he said, a quick, quaint nod accompanying his first step. And then his second. And then the third.

He balled his fists at his side. Khorne, the Neverborn of bloodshed and rage. The part of Lovino that had killed Emma James, the part of Lovino that would jump through flames, leaving comrades behind to die, to get revenge on someone who only caused him distress from afar—that had blinded Lovino from his ability to think properly and realize the man he was off to kill was innocent.

Lovino took a deep breath in through his nose. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide, but he wouldn't. The whispering movement moved into the light, and Lovino looked at it with a defiance absent from his thrumming veins.

The creature in front of him almost glowed red and orange. It looked like he was on fire, but his body did not glow, did not radiate, it looked stone. He was huge, wideset, protruding horns on all parts of his body. Two raging eyes stared with crazed fervor, the face of a demon. On his chest was a strange looking insignia that Lovino didn't recognize, and at his side was a large axe.

"Who are you?" The voice was booming, filtering through the swamp like a powerful wind. Lovino protected his face with his arm.

"I—" he started, before clearing his throat and attempting to breathe some form for stupidity into himself. "My name is Lovino Gaspari. I have come to defeat you in combat."

He should have said battle. It would have sounded cooler if he had said "I have come to defeat you in battle." Of course, it was too late now, and he was too scared to ask for a do-over.

Khorne laughed. Suddenly, a swinging battle axe caught Lovino in the gut, sending him flying in the air. He landed with a loud  _splash_ , water and mud and uprooted grasses covering Lovino as he coughed, grabbing at his stomach.

"Fuck—that hurt—" he groaned. Khorne's footsteps caused waves. Lovino quickly scrambled to his feet. Another swing barreled forward. Lovino jumped back and away, escaping it by barely a hair.

The Neverborn he was up again loomed over him by  _stories_. The axe was probably bigger than Lovino in itself. It made him slow, and Lovino saw that, but it made him strong, too, as was apparent by the fact Lovino was unable to stand up straight.

Lovino tried to assess his situation, but it seemed every time he could stop to try and find a way to get in a hit there was a weapon coming towards his head or his stomach or his something. He could never actually escape it! And it really didn't help that the swamp filled his shoes with water, bogging him down with every step.

He dodged another attack, grabbing at his side with a painfilled sneer. Fuck, it really hurt. He was growing annoyed with this dance! He needed to find a way to take his own swing. To hurt  _him_.

Lovino stood there, holding his side and glowering up at the Neverborn. He had to wait for the perfect moment or else this wouldn't work. He drew a raggid breath.

Khorne swung. Lovino smirked. Just before it hit, Lovino used the epitome of his strength to bound upwards and forward, jumping over the crescent top of the weapon and landing within range. "Fuck you!" he screamed, running with all his strength, landing a shaking punch to the Neverborn's side. He grit his teeth. His skin was practically stone! Lovino cursed the pain, anger flaring in his chest. He hit again and again, kicking as hard as he could before the large creature was able to push him away. Lovino landed in the mud.

He rolled away moments before the large axe was swung into the mud, a wave of dismal water creating a tsunami and rolling Lovino further away. He quickly rose to his hands and knees, coughing up water and dirt. This wasn't a fair fight!

He wasn't going to be able to beat him in hand-to-hand. Mainly because  _he had a fucking axe_. He needed to find a way to use his power. But...he didn't know how to. His power was based on the anger and desperation of others. The only other one that was there was Arthur, and like hell he was going to fuck up his chance by using the Brit.

He fell out of the way of another attack, fatigue settling over him. He needed a second to think, damn it! He stood shakily, pretending he was actually breathing instead of panting, as he held a fast hand to his stomach. He stole a glance up at the demon before him.

Still, fire was in his eyes. Lovino focused. The Neverborn radiated a power Lovino could never imagine, but at the same time it was locked away. Lovino couldn't seep into this energy. Something about it was too concentrated, too pure.

His inability to do anything royally pissed him off. Great, he is standing in  _front_  of the fucking Neverborn of  _hatred_  and he couldn't even feed off it! He couldn't feed off the devil's fucking power. Instead he was sent to run around like a goddamn chicken with their head cut off. How was this productive? It fucking wasn't!

He gnashed his teeth harder.

He was being made a fucking fool of. Is that why Arthur brought him here? First, he mocks him with a useless session on top of a mountain, then he brings him here to get his ass kicked. What was he doing? Babysitting? Was Lovino just being brushed away by the rest of the goddamn world? Who's fucking idea was this?

His chest felt tight, his shoulders pinched.

He would prove whoever it was wrong. This fucking—Khorne was, in a way, apart of Lovino. Only, he was  _only_  a part. He was that of bloodlust. He lacked everything else!

And the way he swung again told Lovino that he definitely lacked Chaos's so-called intelligence.

Lovino couldn't fight him with his fists, but he didn't have a weapon. The vegetation was too little or too soft or too wet. Another swing, another useless wave of dirty water.

It was so repetitive!

"Lovino!" Arthur shouted. "Try to hone in on your powers!"

Who the fuck was he to say anything! "What do you fucking think I'm fucking doing!" Lovino screamed back.

He needed to win. He needed to prove whoever was mocking him wrong. He needed to kill Khorne.

And it was that thought that tingled under Lovino's skin. It bubbled and burned and felt so frightenly familiar that he paused. The feeling fell away.

He stared down at his hands, blinking repeatably. What had brought it on? What was he missing?

The axe caught Lovino in the side. He cried, falling into the water, blood spewing past his lips. Balling his fist in the mud he shot a glare up at the Neverborn. The feeling started again, and Lovino clung to it. He would break into this fuckers interior. He would make him pay. For being such a stupid asshole, if for nothing else.

Lovino fell forward, grabbing the head of the axe before Khorne could pull it from the mud. He pulled back as hard as he could. The Neverborn fell for it, tugging his axe towards him with a much stronger form of strength then what was needed. Lovino held on tightly, using Khorne's momentum to fall forward with a kick to the Neverborn's chest.

Khorne stuttered backward, but only slightly. Lovino was dropped into the mud again, but refused to give up. He would win! He would fucking win! Using his closeness, Lovino put both of his hands against the orange of Khorne's skin. He focused—focused on the purity of hatred and rage.

A loud laugh filtered through the air. Lovino could feel his heart getting stronger, getting slower, and he could feel his anger rising.

_I'll kill him! He disrespects me. I will bring him to his knees, I will peel his face back with a scalpel. I will make him suffer!_

A darkness formed around Lovino's arms and hands, and he could feel his heart elevate.

_I'll kill him, I'll kill him, I'll kill him!_

The Neverborn's laughter never ceased. Not when Lovino stood back. Not when Lovino focused all his energy forward. The darkening cloud was weak around Lovino, and his heart was practically dead compared to his fight with Antonio, but he could grow on it. He would. He had to!

He felt for the power of Khorne. He wanted nothing more then to take his power and kill him with it! To watch a Neverborn's blood or life force or whatever seep away into the grimy waters. To snuff out this flame.

To shut up the incessive fucking laughter!

Lovino pushed his way to another punch. The blackness around his hand kept it from hurting. He hit again, and again. He focused his energy, with every hit trying to pull away with Khorne's hatred.

But no matter how many times Lovino hit, no matter how strong Lovino's heart became, Khorne never stuttered. Lovino could feel him  _grow_.

Stepping back, momentary surprise breaking through Lovino's exterior, Lovino stared up. Khorne laughed as if he were tickled. The horns on his head let out a sickenly slick wail as they grew outwards, the eyes of fire and hatred only grew hotter.

The next swing was quicker. Lovino stumbled out of the way. He needed to focus. He needed to snuff out—if he could only create a weapon. He had used the smoke, maybe he could use the armor!

Khorne's recovery time was cut, and he was running towards a running Lovino within moments of him having swung!

Lovino focused on his hand. He imagined something of a weapon. A gun, preferably.

He was running again.

Okay, okay, maybe something more practical. A—A sword? A fucking bat? Fuck, give him a fucking crowbar, at this point.

He ran and dove behind a tree. It shattered into a million pieces above him. Lovino covered his head from the debris.

Anger. Focus on his anger!

He willed the thoughts of mockery and disregard to his hand. He breathed in the desire of heat and hatred. He imagined customers from the truck-stop, his old manager, a random kid from his high school. He thought about everything that pissed him off, things that would cause him to scream and debate and punch. He thought of Antonio.

The growing feeling of heat fell into his palm, and he dare break the protection of his arms to look.

In his hand, black as obsidian, was something Lovino might call a weapon. It was thin, but sturdy, sharp. Lovino took a deep breath and clasped it in both hands.

Good.

Khorne's axe sent him running, but this time he turned around, paces away from him. He let his anger flow into the weapon.

_I'll kill him._

It throbbed in his hand, his heart slowed and became stronger. He could feel the black ink attaching itself to his body. He would win.

Screaming Lovino tore forward and took his first strike.

It hit.

He took another, much quicker than the Neverborn. Then another.

His weapon was strong! It would break the Neverborn's armor. It would bring him to his knees!

Only, it didn't. The Neverborn began laughing again. Lovino fell backward.

He watched as orange and red began to glow. He watched as the whole creature seemed to stretch and grow, as the powerful laugh dropped an octave and threatened to break the land beneath Lovino's feet.

The Neverborn took a swing. Impossible speed for his size!

A bright light, accompanied by an impossibly sharp screech, caused the Neverborn to stutter backwards with a loud cry. Lovino grabbed at his ears, dropping his weapon just for it to disappear before it his the water. He bowed his head, his whole body exploding as he bowed into the mud. He shut his eyes.

When he opened them, the world was silent. Grass was beneath his knees. A wad of mud fell from his hair.

"What did you learn." It was Arthur.

Lovino took a long moment to catch his breath, to collect his thoughts. So much ran through his head, that it was hard to categorize. But one thing was blearing. "Violence makes him stronger." Lovino said, sitting up with a painful hiss. "I can't beat him with my powers because it just makes him grow."

Arthur shook his head. "You got that half right. Violence fuels Khorne, just as it does you. However, you possess more than Khorne does. You must tap into the other sides of your power to defeat him."

"But, how? He is hatred! That's where my power comes from. When I get angry, I grow stronger."

"There are other ways for you to grow powerful. You have despair, pain, and ambition within you. To beat Khorne, you must learn that even Chaos requires balance. The Neverborns are weak because they are only  _one_  of Chaos's attributes. You are all of them."

"Will we be visiting the others then?"

"Only when you have successfully defeated Khorne."

Lovino fell into silence.

"Come, now. Let's go eat. You can think about all this when we return to the mountain."

Lovino nodded, taking the extended hand. It hurt to walk, but the promise of food would get him to go anywhere right now.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_YOU GUYS! If you guys are enjoying my writing and would like to see more, you can 1) check out the stories on my page (I recommend_ Remorse _if you like the darker aspects of this story) or 2) GO VOTE!_

_I have launched a poll to see what you guys want to see next! If I'm able to finish this with enough time, I would like to either start another story or finish a started one. There are four options to choose from. I can't promise that the winner will be what gets written (some things depends on inspiration) but it will definitely put your guys' desires into perspective!_

_Also, thank you sooo much for all the reviews, you guys! 50! Reviews are honestly what I strive on when I'm writing this quickly._

_Guest commented 08-11-18_

_No, we shall let it go, then. But, if there is someone personally attacking you, please do not feel afraid to reach out to me or other Itacest writers. I'm sure any of them would step up and help ya just as quickly as I will._

_ALSO! You know what the solution to not-that-much-itacest-content is? Hmm? Do ya? I do._

_WRITE SOME!_

_Seriously! Even if you're a novice writer, or are shy, I ask that you buck up and create! I will, of course, support everything you write and shout it out, so please please please write this pairing with me!_

_^That goes for everyone, by the way. If you came here for the pairing, then help support by offering something to the community! If you don't feel comfortable writing incest (because_ **same** _) make it unrelated. Is it cheating? Sure, maybe, I don't know or care. Just, let's try and grow this pairing to the size it was in 2011. It's cute and the countless opportunities for character development is a panty-dropper, really. Like, one mean boi and one happy boi. What can you do with that?_

_So much._

**_COMMENT_ ** _! How do you think Lovino is going to outsmart Khorne? Is it even possible!? Put in your opinions/thoughts_


	22. Vingt-Duex

A crying of laughter met Lovino at the door of the cafeteria hall. "He had me pinned!" Feliciano said between chokes of giggles. "What was I  _supposed_  to do?"

"He's got a point, Lud," Gilbert respond with a smirk.

"You didn't have to  _bite_ me! I told you if you wanted to stop you just had to  _say so_."

Lovino almost smiled as he walked to the table his group was at. It was close to the door, so the sea of other people didn't distract him too much.

"I wasn't going to let you win again," Feliciano was saying as Lovino came up to them, giving Ludwig a nonsense wink, his fork disappearing into his mouth.

The table was long, stretching along the length of the hall with four or five others like it. There were benches on both sides. There seemed to be two different lines for food, coming out from their own respective walls. Ludwig, Gilbert, and Feliciano had found a place near the foot of the table, Ludwig and Feliciano sitting together while Gilbert sat across them, his arms crossed on the table top, his chest leaning again it. Lovino came to a position beside Gilbert, across from Feliciano.

Feliciano immediately shouted a quick "Lovino!"

Lovino recoiled. "Say it, don't spray it, bastard," he groaned.

Feliciano swallowed his mouthful. "Lovino! Where have you been? What happened? You're a mess!"

"I'll go get us something to eat," Arthur offered, disappearing among the sea before Lovino could even acknowledge him.

"How was training?" Gilbert laughed, pulling a drying glob of mud from Lovino's hair.

Lovino pushed his hand away. "Not as much fun as Feliciano's, it sounds." He sent Ludwig a smug smile. The tall blond was tending to a wrapped arm. When he caught Lovino's look he seemed to almost even roll his eyes.

"Lovino," Feliciano said again, practically bounding out of his seat. "How did it go? What did you learn? Are you getting better? Did you fall into mud or something?"

Lovino let a sense of almost relief wash over him. Feliciano seemed to be acting normal. Overly energetic and happy. It was a good sight.

Though at the same time, it worried him.

Part of Lovino wanted to roll his eyes and snap at the kid, but he set that part aside and offered something of a smile. This was a moment of peace. Comfortable and teasing and friendly. Lovino would take it. His mind still warped and wanted to focus on the trials ahead, but even just the walk over had driven him mad.

What was he supposed to do? How was he going to defeat something that thrived on violence? He couldn't just keep running around the swamp.

He was supposed to use the other parts of himself, but how? Arthur couldn't know what he was talking about. Lovino knew that the British man was just spewing shit that he had read or learned through word of mouth or whatever. How was it that everyone here knew so much? Had Chaos really been that bad? She had tried to ruin the string or  _something_ , Lovino didn't really care for the details, but, if she was really so horrendous why didn't they just kill him now? Was it because he was human?

And how was a human even supposed to defeat a god? He didn't care what anyone said, these Neverborns were a lot closer to god than he was. Not only that, but they were stripped of diversity. Not only was he going to be fighting against something that thrived on rage, he was fighting the very essence of rage! What was he going to do? Defeat him with flowers and a fuckboy smile?

Speaking of fuckboy smiles. "Lovino?" Feliciano laughed. "Earth to Lovino."

Lovino blinked, groaning and scrubbing a hand down his face. "Sorry," he muttered. Sighing, he decided to focus on something other than all of that. He was already thinking himself in circles. "So, what did you do, Feli?"

The boy practically exploded with excitement. "So much! I learned a lot about blocking and defense, but I also learned a few attacks. Right Ludwig?"

The blond grunted.

"He learns fast," Gilbert chided, "but he doesn't follow form."

Feliciano sent Lovino a mischievous grin. "Who needs form? If I'm fighting against someone looking to kill me, then some stupid position isn't going to save me. It's street rules when you're dealing with criminals, after all."

"But you must learn proper form," Ludwig sighed. "Without a strong core—"

"I'll be weak, yeah, yeah. But what did your core have to say when you were being bitten?"

Lovino could feel a chuckle rising in his throat. "He's got a point,  _Lud_."

Ludwig pursed his lips, both Gilbert and Feliciano laughed.

"Anyway!" Feliciano continued, jumping up. "My form is fine. Lovi, watch!" He looked so giddy as he positioned his feet to shoulder-width, looking at the ground as if he didn't watch them they wouldn't do what he wanted, before he took a deep (almost giggly) breath, balling his fists at his hips. He shot a grin upward. "See?"

"Put your shoulders back," Ludwig instructed immediately.

"And you need to balance your weight better," Gilbert said, balancing his chin on his palm.

Feliciano stuck his tongue out at the both of them. "What do you think, Lovino?" he practically whined.

Lovino looked over the boy quickly. Crossing his arms and clicking his tongue, he said: "I think you need to straighten your posture."

Feliciano glared at him. "Fight me."

Lovino shook his head with a light chuckle. "Any day, idiot."

He was tired, his body hurt, and his stomach was impossibly empty. That combination of things explained everything. It explained his slight limp. It explained why he kept falling into something of a daydream. It explained the quickness of his pulse when Feliciano laughed.

"Here." Arthur came from the other side of the table, carrying a tray. Lovino and Gilbert were pushed further down the bench, the British man setting down the tray and taking his own place.

Lovino blinked at the array. "What is this?" he asked carefully, dipping down to examine the plate from a lower angle. It was some sort of meat with a weirdly brown piece of—what was that?  _Bread_?

"Haggis," Arthur said simply. "It's a traditional Scottish dish."

"Looks kind of like a sausage," Gilbert observed, his tone taking on the dread Lovino felt in his own gut.

"With…oatmeal in it?" Ludwig joined.

Arthur seemed to go unaware of the fear that his dish brought to the group. "It's made from sheep pluck."

"Sheep what?" Feliciano giggled nervously.

"You know,  _pluck_. The liver, heart, intest—"

Lovino gagged into his hand, Gilbert fell away, dry heaving, and Ludwig just stared at the dish as if he were mourning the idea of sausages. Feliciano, at least, kept some composure.

"Traditional is…cool."

"Thank you, Feliciano."

Lovino pushed the plate away, stealing a glance across the table at Feliciano's dish. A plate of spheggeti, something  _normal_. Smirking, he half stood to steal away the plate. "Let's switch."

"Lovino! No! Give that back!"

Lovino held the plate in one hand and warded off his friend with the other. "You've eaten enough pasta in your life. It's really starting to show. Lean protein is what you need!" Lovino laughed.

"I'm going to beat you up!" Feliciano threatened, practically climbing across the table.

"You two are causing a scene!" Arthur hissed.

"Bite him!" Gilbert offered helpfully.

Turning his back towards the auburn-haired boy, Lovino stole up the fork that came with his own meal. "Don't you dare." Feliciano said darkly. Lovino quirked an eyebrow, burying the prongs. "I'm warning you, Gaspari!"

He took a bite.

"I'm going to kill you!"

Lovino practically screamed as the boy bounded across the table, tackling into him. "Watch it, bastard! I almost died today!"

"Almost never got anyone anywhere!"

* * *

Tomato sauce now joined the mud in Lovino's hair, but it was alright. In the end, Ludwig had broken up the fight by going and just getting another meal from one of the walls. Pizza. Lovino could get behind that.

His sides ached, but his stomach was full, and, well, baby steps. Sighing he readied himself to stand. "I'm going to go take a nap," he announced.

"What?" Feliciano said quickly, turning away from his conversation he had been continuing with Ludwig. "You can't go take a nap!"

Lovino was already turning. "Watch me."

"No! I was going to show you what I learned!" The boy came around from the table, catching Lovino before he made it to the door. "You can sleep afterwards. I'm really excited to show you. You know, give you a sense of what's going to be kicking your butt!"

Lovino rolled his eyes with a deep groan. "Show me after I've gotten some rest," he pleaded. "I don't feel too great."

"It won't be long. Just a couple moves! They might even help you with your training! Please!"

They made it to the end of the cafeteria, disposing their plates in a quickly filling bin near the door. Lovino shot Feliciano a quick glance. How long had he been in the Neverworld? Could Feliciano really have learned that much? Fuck this distortion of time.

Not to mention the way that Feliciano looked up at him, almost quietly desperate. Fuck that, too. It was one of his manipulative faces. Make them feel bad and they'll do what you want. Lovino wouldn't feed into his system. He was going to get some rest. He was!

Right after he was dragged out to the goddamn sparring holes.

"I hate you," Lovino was groaning with every step. It was strange, just like his burns it felt like very little time passed before his wounds were not only bearable, but fleeting and numb.

"I love you, too."

Lovino shook his head. Idiot. They broke into the clearing that Feliciano had been so eager to find. The skies were dark again, though they shimmered with a million silver and golden stars. A strange creature, like a cotton-ball fire fly, lit the world around them a shade of green Lovino had only ever seen in pictures. Bases of trees glowed warmly, while taller, intertwining branches above them were dark and blue. A melodic chime of singing bugs filled the air.

Feliciano ran forward, balancing himself with his arms out as he used his heels to run down into one of the pits. "Okay, now watch!" he yelled up once he had reached to bottom.

Lovino sighed, sitting carefully at the edge of the pit. If he were to push forward, he could probably touch the bottom. "Okay, asshat, make this quick! It's too hot out here!"

Feliciano nodded. Quickly, he fell into the position from earlier, feet slightly apart, fists at his side. He managed a few breaths here.

Lovino watched, amused, as the boy started what he could only imagine to be Ludwig's warm-up poises. Really, the blond should go into ballet. These were  _beautiful_  and completely  _useless_  in a fight. Feliciano was right. If he tried to pull one of these on even a five year old they would kick him out of his stance!

Still, the boy continued, determined to prove something. Or maybe this was just another distraction. Lovino frowned into his palm. He wondered when the last time Feliciano had slept was. Time was irrelevant, whatever, but their bodies still needed rest. If this was a situation like before, if Feliciano was using  _this_ , perfecting some stupid form, like he seemed to have used Gabriel's case, then it was likely that his attitude during dinner was fake. Some stupid façade that would accomplish nothing.

The boy stumbled backwards. His breath had taken some weight since he had started. He smiled, almost laughing. He started again.

Still, Lovino couldn't deny the fact that he, too, was looking for distraction. Their world had been torn apart and glued back together by a preschool class. Suddenly everything meant something and was dangerous. Suddenly they were wrapped in something so far out of their experience, their jurisdiction. Feliciano had the option to leave, though. He wasn't being forced to stay in this mess.

He probably saw it as a game. He seemed to see everything as a game. Only, this one had actual consequences. Lovino's wounds proved that. They didn't get multiple hearts, there was no cheat code on the internet, no walk-through. Fuck, didn't Feliciano realize that he could die? That he had  _almost_ died already?

That he should be dead?

Lovino drew a deep breath through his nose. He wanted to ignore the feelings of anguish that once again fluttered through his chest and focusing on Feliciano's stuttered kick that sent him into the dirt almost helped. The boy picked himself up, immediately doing it again. And again and again until he seemed comfortable with the form. To Lovino it looked crooked and messy, but he didn't know anything about fighting. He followed the boy's movements carefully, and a burning inquiring accidently made its way from Lovino's head to his lips.

"What are you feeling?" he asked.

Feliciano jumped, as if he had forgotten that Lovino was even there. "What?"

"Er—you don't look angry," Lovino tried to explain lamely.

"Why would I be angry?" he laughed. "I'm only practicing."

Lovino glared the other way. He felt silly. "That's not what I mean, bastard. I mean what do you feel when you are fighting someone. I—do you get angry?"

There was a long pause. "I mean, I guess, sometimes. Contrary to popular belief I don't get into a lot of fights." Lovino saw him shrug from the corner of his eye. "I guess I feel…more afraid, when I'm fighting."

"Afraid?"

"Yeah. Like, a lot could go wrong. Even when I'm fighting with Ludwig, I get this sense of fear that he'll beat me and I won't be able to—I don't know. It's kinda like feeling like you're about to drown. When I was a kid I used to go to the beach with my grandpa, and there were always these little waves that didn't look scary at all. But when I would play in them they would seem so much bigger and they would knock me down, and then when they would pull back out to sea I would get really scared and my whole body would tense up and my heart would stop." He laughed. "Grandpa would just pick me up when I would start freaking out. He told me that if the pull ever felt too strong that I should stand sideways, with my shoulder pointing out to sea. It would give the current less control on my body."

"Then why are you here?" Lovino hadn't meant to make it sound so accusatory. "If you're afraid, why are you here? This isn't some stupid wave."

Feliciano took a moment to respond. Lovino thought that he maybe even saw hurt cross the boy's features, but then again it could just be the unreliable lighting of floating balls and shining stars. Feliciano sighed. "I'm here because I want to help," he decided. "Just because you feel something doesn't mean that you let it dictate your actions. Being here scares me. A lot. I don't know anyone other than Ludwig and Gilbert, and they all look at me like I'm something to be gawked at rather than spoken to. I don't like the thought of multiple gods, and the idea that maybe there's no Heaven? And it terrifies me when I think of Antonio. The time thing confuses me, no matter how many times I ask Ludwig to explain it to me, and Gilbert is really funny but there's this weird vibe about him. Ludwig is really nice, but kind of stiff. And—well—but in the end I was given the opportunity to help, and I'm not going to let that pass." The boy seemed to grow more determined the longer he talked, and soon he stood there, decided and strong in front of Lovino.

For the first time, Lovino  _admired_  the kid. He didn't appreciate his creativity or find his ability to talk impressive. Here, under a feigned night sky, he looked onto his friend with a new sense of order between the two. Feliciano truly was strong. His physical abilities were questionable, but his mind was set and ordered. Or, at least, enough so that at 23 years old he could convince even himself that he knew what he wanted.

Lovino would strive to follow this example. Lovino wanted to want to help. Fuck, that was a useless strings of words. Still…he needed to get his thoughts together. His goals. Saying that he wanted to bring something of value to the world was a nice thought, but in the end it was too vague. Lovino would have to focus his energies and thoughts.

Feliciano smiled at him. "So, your turn," he said, breaking the growing silence between them.

"My turn?"

"To show me what you learned! I've showed you what I've been doing, but I'm still wondering what had you looking like a Grimer."

"A what?"

"Shush and show me!"

Lovino chewed on the thought. He couldn't possibly show him what he had done. He didn't have a watch, nor did he have the will to go back into the Neverworld before getting some fucking sleep. He could take the kid to the waterfall, though.

"Alright," Lovino grunted, standing up. "There's something I'll show you. Follow me."

The two slowly picked their way through the trees (Lovino was hurt, not lost, damn it. Shut up, Feliciano.) until the sound of rushing water could be heard. Lovino sighed in relief. The two broke their second tree line of the night.

Feliciano gasped. "What is this?" he asked, in total awe.

Wildlife seemed to have taken to the still fall, something scaly scampering away as Lovino made his way forward. "It's called something stupid," Lovino shared softly, "and it never moves."

"How?"

"I don't fucking know, how am I supposed to know?"

Feliciano laughed. "I don't know. Maybe someone told you."

"All I got told was that it doesn't move." Lovino defended.

Feliciano stooped to his knees as they approached the water's edge, peering downwards. "Fish!" he cooed.

Lovino looked over the boy. The bright colors he had seen earlier were still at it. They didn't seem afraid right now, though. There was no bright sky to cast dangerous shadows above them. Lovino smiled softly as Feliciano leaned forward, chirping strings of words that were lost in the roar of the world.

"Watch this," Lovino said, demanding the boy's attention once more. He stepped onto the pool's surface. Even though he knew he wouldn't sink, he still felt like he was stepping onto a pane of ice. Finding his footing he took a few steps out.

"What!" Feliciano yelled, jumping to a standing position. His eyes glowed with curiosity and interest. "How are you doing that, Lovino!" he cried.

Lovino smirked at him. "Magic."

"Shut up!" Did Feliciano actually believe him?

Lovino rolled his eyes. He checked to make sure Feliciano was wearing the gloves that Arthur had given him before extending his hand. "Come on." Feliciano hesitated, looking into the water. Lovino wondered if the boy might have a fear of water. "Don't you trust me?" he asked lightly.

Feliciano giggled. "Depends, are you going to buy me a tiger when we get out of this mess?"

"Right after I find my carpet."

Feliciano laughed, shaking his head and grabbing Lovino's hand.

They both screamed with surprise when the water's surface suddenly liquified, the fall taking action and rushing to life. The both of them sunk into the water's depths. Lovino swam to the surface. The waters were freezing, sparkling black and blue, practically stabbing his every limb. Feliciano broke the surface right after him, pulling in a deep breath.

"I thought you said it never moved!" he yelled.

Lovino wiped his bangs out of his eyes. "That's what I was told! Fucker lied to me!"

"I am never trusting you again!"

Lovino laughed. That was probably the soundest judgement he had ever heard come from Feliciano. The two of them swam over to the bank, both finding dry land before long. The fall continued to rush before them.

"It's beautiful," Feliciano decided as he worked off a now sopping shoe.

The heat was welcome. Appreciated. Lovino ran quick fingers through his hair in attempt to dry dribbling locks. "Would've been better if it would have stayed fucking still," he muttered bitterly.

After a long moment, the water stilled again. Feliciano stared at it, silent, lost somewhere in his thoughts. Lovino watched him for a moment. The boy was soaked but didn't move past a single abandoned shoe. A drooping sock sat half-on-half-off his foot. They seemed to sit like this forever. It was nice. Lovino's thoughts, numbed by the freezing pool, contained little to nothing. Just the image in front of him.

The boy spoke, without warning, and a sudden anxiety seemed to apply heat to Lovino's neck. He looked away, but Feliciano made no effort to look at him. "I'm not scared of you," he said simply.

Lovino picked at his nail. Wow, heavy topic, much. Still, he couldn't bring himself to brush off the comment. He searched for something witty to say, but he couldn't find it. He couldn't find much at all. Nothing but: "you should be."

Feliciano nodded noiselessly. "I know I should. But I don't."

Lovino could have asked why, but he was pretty sure that he knew what would be said. "I don't know," or something extremely cheesy about—what? What fucking life lesson had the boy's grandfather taught him about psycho-friends-that-try-to-murder-you-with-their-fucking-super-powers? The best advice that Lovino's grandparents had ever offered him was how to remember the order of a compass. Never Eat Soggy Waffles. Of course, that fact was useless in the modern day.

Lovino groaned and fell backwards into the grass. He laced his fingers beneath his head. "Feliciano," he said softly. The boy hummed back to him. "Can you promise me something?"

"What's that?"

"Can you promise me that you'll never let yourself get caught in that situation again?" A pause. "I—If I can't—Well," Lovino closed his eyes, trying to imagine something of a dictionary. Any word, really, just prompt him into something to say. "I want to be good." He concluded, mentally giving himself the  _Lamest Fucker in the World_ award. "But I can't promise that I will be. I—I can try, but I won't make any promises. So, can you—" what?  _Can you once again do something that I can't and promise to protect yourself?_  He sighed, defeated.

The sound of Feliciano falling back himself rustled amongst the fall. "Don't worry, Lovi," he said. "I trust that you will be able to work everything out."

Lovino shot him a dubious look. "That is literally the stupidest thing you have ever said. I've never even owned a couch!"

Feliciano giggled, staring into the sky. "But you have a good heart. And I trust you. When you say that you want to be good, and when you say that you're afraid."

"What? I never said that I was afraid."

Feliciano just smiled. "You didn't have to."

Lovino frowned, turning his attention to the stars. They blinked, moving and dancing. It was as if the constellations above them were moving, fighting in some epic story meant for the gods' entertainment.

"Do you know the constellations?"

"No. You?"

"No."

A light giggle, joined by a soft chuckle. The story was lost to them, but that didn't make the display any less breathtaking.

Lovino was content—so content that he couldn't seem to fall asleep. He looked over to see if his companion was in a similar situation, but Feliciano was fast asleep, an arm coiled under his head. He looked slightly troubled, but it was to be expected. Lovino could only imagine what kind of nightmares might plague his friend. Feliciano had never breathed a word about what happened before Lovino had found him at the warehouse. Lovino never asked, either. If Feliciano wanted to talk about it, he would.

Lovino looked back to the skies.

He had probably already tried to tell Lovino. He had probably spoken in a million missed codes and ciphers. What an idiot. Did they not agree to a keyword?

Right, they had never come to a consensus on that.

Lovino silently declared that, after a short nap, he and Feliciano would finish that conversation. Maybe he would even be able to get Feliciano to talk— _in English_.

Until then he would stare at the stars, enveloped by the roaring of the still fall. He would allow himself this moment to think, because he didn't have time to leave his thoughts to the top of a mountain. He needed to find a way to defeat Khorne, because then maybe he wouldn't have to make Feliciano make stupid ass promises on his behalf.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Hope you guys enjoyed the fluff. Sometimes I forget that I'm writing fanfiction (or romance in general) and get so lost in the plot that the characters just become beacons of hastily thrown-together development amongst a bunch of action and info-dumps. Sorrie._

_Fun little bit of trivia: the job I want in the military requires a security clearance, because it is one of the intelligence jobs, and if my screening goes through positive I am literally going to be investigated by the FBI. They're going to be knocking on doors, talking to old teachers, to family members, neighbors, etc, etc. I don't know what that means to you guys, but to me it means that they are totally going to ask for my social media and let me tell you how excited I am to make some important government official screen my gay fanfiction. It brings me life, really._

_If I ever become president, it will be on the basis that someone will have to thoroughly go through every chapter before it's published to make sure I'm not giving away launch codes or whatever. I mean, I wouldn't do that, obviously, but_ they don't know that.

_Guest comment 08/12/18_

_Make an account and PM me! I would love to pretend I know what I'm doing enough to hand out tips!_

**_COMMENT_ ** _!_


	23. Vingt-Trois

"Lovino, stay quite." Arthur and Lovino sat beneath the yellow sky of the mountain. The breeze was warming, stronger than their previous visit. Lovino could even catch the slight fragrance of something earthy and sweet—not flowery sweet, but more like laundry detergent sweet. He should really become a poet.

Arthur, over the course of their time together, had visibly grown more frustrated. His easy form from earlier was still intact, but heavy eyebrows quivered and twitched, giving away his real character. He kept his eyes glued shut. Lovino took that as a free pass to slouch and relax his legs. Watch the teacher and play on their inability to see everything. It had gotten him through gym class, and it would get him through this.

"I'm  _sorry_. Maybe I think better out loud!" he ground out, flustered. They had been sitting here for years, it felt, and because that stupid fucking thing about time Lovino couldn't cross check to see if he was right. He just knew that they were sitting and breathing and that it was too fucking hot and he was not only confused, but he was bored, and hungry, and sick and tired of being there. "I know I need to find a way to defeat Khorne, but the answer isn't inside of me!"

"This is a  _silent exercise_."

"I'm not going to become a god damn fucking monk over night!" he defended angrily. "Let's open the conversation; you know a lot more about all this shit than I do. How the fuck am I supposed to come up with the answer when all I know is what you told me—and now you won't answer any of my questions or even let me  _speak_? How does that make sense? Spoiler alert: it doesn't."

"You're supposed to be focusing on your fight with Khorne and how you can use that experience mixed with your other experiences using your powers to find a solution."

"My past experiences are literally me just wanting to kill!" Lovino ignored the bit of himself that burned at the thought of that. It made him almost angry at how he had let anger control him. He sighed. "I just don't get it. My powers are strong when I'm angry."

"It's because Khorne is the strongest part of you."

Lovino shot a glare over to him. "Oh really? And we weren't going to mention that?"

Arthur finally opened his eyes, green eyes looking up to the Heavens as if he were sending a silent prayer their way. Lovino quickly returned to rigid position, his heart pounding, a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar. Arthur finally looked over to him. "Do you want information or not?"

"Yes, of course I do!"

"Then don't mock me." There was a silent  _wanker_  at the end of that. Arthur knew it, Lovino knew it, but they both moved passed it.

Lovino was going to control the most powerful part of himself. Lovino was  _not_  going throw this wanker off the peak of a mountain.

That's what progress looks like, kids.

"Khorne, or anger and bloodlust, is your prime power beacon. It's easy and it's mindless."

"So how am I supposed to beat it? It seems that any way to  _beat_  him revolves around violence. I can't hit him, so how the fuck am I supposed to beat him?"

Arthur looked almost amused. "You can't hit him."

"No. Hitting is  _violent_." Lovino glowered. "You know, violence. That think that makes him fucking grow stronger?"

"Violence through hate and bloodlust is what he grows from."

"Mm-hmm, and tell me the last time you threw a punch on the basis of friendship." Lovino furrowed his brow, snapping a quick look at him. "Wait, am I supposed to actually flirt with this fucker?"

" _What?_ "

"Nevermind. Just—tell me how I'm supposed to do this!"

A pregnant pause passed between them. Finally, Arthur responded. "I don't have the answers you're looking for."

Lovino could feel his composure unravel. "Then how can you expect me to be able to!"

Arthur stood. "I believe that you can because you're a descendent Chaos."

"But I'm  _not_  her. A lot can change down the line! Fuck, even children don't turn out just like their fucking parents. You can't put standards on me that you would put on her!"

"It has nothing to do with standards. Stand up."

"Then what does it have to do with?"

"It has to do with the fact that you have come into a great power and have to figure out how to deal with it. If you can't, then your humanity will be consumed, and you will be put to death." His straight-forwardness came with the playing of his watch, and then Lovino's whole world was bright.

The light cleared, and the two of them stood in a sea of vivid autumn colors. Leaves of all shades and shapes billowed in the light winds, covering the ground in a thick layer, despite there only be a few spotted trees in the vast area.

This wasn't the Neverworld. It couldn't've been. It was too serene, too beautiful. Lovino clicked his tongue. "Where the fuck are we?"

"My apologies, I was wrong to make you meditate like that." Was Lovino about to get shot? That's was what was happening, huh? Arthur decided that he was, in fact, unable to keep up his end of the deal and had brought him here to assassinate him. Lovino whipped around with wide eyes, thumping heart.

Only, Arthur, standing beneath one of the only grand trees, held not a gun. He held a rake.

"You are a man of action." He extended the gardening tool. "Now go think."

The rake's handle was made of wood, reaching an inch or so above Lovino's head, and the prongs were a flimsy plastic. It was completely normal. Where had the British man gotten in? Who the fuck comes to a place like this and thinks:  _do you know what I need to bring next time I come here? A rake!_

Fucker.

Arthur took a seat at the base of the tree, upsetting a small cloud of leaves as he did so. Immediately he closed his eyes, cutting Lovino off without Lovino even getting a chance to say anything. Groaning and deciding it'd be more thrilling than just sitting, Lovino walked a few paces out before starting.

As he brushed the leaves away, and as he got deep enough to discover the ground, he found that the grass was as many brilliant colors as the leaves. Not only that, but it seemed that even in at the bottom of the pile the leaves were not  _rotten_ , though they had taken on a softness that the fresh ones on the top hadn't. Scowling he flung a great heap of leaves away. He needed to figure out how to defeat Khorne, not coo over god damn leaves and grass.

When _he's_ angry, he's supposed to calm down. He is supposed to balance it out, or whatever. But, when  _facing_  anger, he couldn't do that. He wasn't going to be able to get Khorne into some choke hold and force him to calm down, and the beast's thick skin was likely to keep any needle or tranquiller from harming him.

Lovino shook his head.

Maybe he should change how he's looking at this. Maybe he shouldn't be so caught up with defeating him. He should be focusing on Khorne himself. The Neverborn of rage. The practical fucking  _god_  of rage. He was powerful and strong, and if it weren't for Arthur jumping in when he did Lovino would be dead. Of course, Lovino was in no real danger. Arthur hadn't taken him there to actually hurt him.

It took away from Lovino's sacrifice, didn't it? Not being in real danger. Arthur would pull him to safety. Lovino wouldn't die, or become consumed or whatever. Not during training.

Lovino could throw the rake down in fury.

He wasn't doing anything right! This was supposed to be showing that he was trying, but his trails were farced! They were fake! And worst of all? He couldn't even figure it out.

His knuckles turned white against the wood and he had to consciously slow his breathing.

He needed to figure this out.

He needed to understand how the fuck this was going to help, because right now he was just playing some fucking game of pretend. Whoop-di-doo, turns out he could control the darkness within him and create weapons—congrats, fucker. He found a way to harness his powers for just another form of fucking destruction. Surprise!

Another heap found air rather than the pile.

He needed to kill rage without wanting to kill! He needed to take him out and destroy him. He needed to take the fuckers colors and drown them in the mud.

The plastic prongs cracked under the pressure of Lovino's movements.

How! How! How! His energies were useless here! He needed to prove that he wanted to be good, but he was useless here, not in danger, and soon enough he was going to snap and throw this fucking rake at the god damn British man acting like  _there wasn't a fucking serial killer on the loose with a god damn fucking clock!_ How could he be calm! How!

He tried to dig his nail into the wood, but it was too smooth and dense. He took a deep breath.

This. This was what he was supposed to be defeating, wasn't it? His own tendency to blow everything into such proportions that they suddenly justified his lust for ferocity.

Defeat rage without rage, bloodlust without qualms. It didn't make sense. All Lovino's life he had been fed the words of the peaceful—it hit news that the peace weren't at peace more than murders these days—and yet, even here, he couldn't think of any. No cheesy blog post or forum. No image originally written in Russian and put through a bad translator to come out ironically funny. Nothing.

He let a deep breath in through his nose. A flickering thought passed through his head, telling him that he was a shit hero. He almost laughed.

He really was a shit hero.

Because he wanted nothing more than to kill.

Heroes fought to protect and tried everything in their power to not kill.

Heroes were like Feliciano. They'd cried over dumb things like living. They felt guilty just for existing, drawing empathy lines throughout their life, little boxes, categories that they stick themselves in. Like ants in a circle of chalk.

Lovino couldn't be like that. He refused to be. He wanted to live. He wanted to save, but he needed to live to do that. He wasn't going to cut out experiences and pains for some simple comfort of justice, damn it! He was going to fight to make fucking mistakes, but he needed to get his shit together so that his mistakes didn't hurt others. He couldn't feel fear when he fought because he refused to be afraid. He would win or he would die—and when one's life was on the line how could they possibly ignore the option of the other's life? How can they keep themselves from pondering it, wishing it, knowing that it came down to the option of one or the other?

He wanted to live, so he refused to die.

He wanted to live, so he strived to kill.

He wanted to live, so he would give into the rage and the hatred! How else did one live? In such serious situations! If Antonio were to challenge him to another match, Lovino would do everything he could to kill that sick bastard. Out loud he would scream that his actions were in the names of the victims, of  _Gabriel_ , but here in his head he didn't need to be so pretentious. He would kill Antonio to keep his own life.

But he would also kill Antonio to spite him. To make up for the bitter taste of failure that still burned like acid beneath Lovino's skin. He would kill to show that he could.

So, don't do that. Don't kill. But killing was the greatest defeat! Chess was based on picking off all the characters until one was in a situation where any way that they moved they were  _dead_. Dead won. Dead shows power. It's why pirates send their enemies to Davy Jones and why kings beheaded their adversaries. It was the most satisfactory ending—all loose ends tied up, all heroes standing at the podium. No jail cells wasted or taxes being eaten away by an isolated man.

The first prong on the rake broke. Lovino cursed and kicked it into his pile.

Okay, okay, so he needed to not focus on the ending. Let it be messy. Life was messy, yeah? So, endings were too. He needed to find an end goal…without…thinking…about the…end…Fuck! What the hell was he even going on about?

Bloodlust, he needed to beat bloodlust. The opposite of the was—er—keep-the-blood-in-the-thing-the-blood's-already-in. Yeah, that was a normal thing to think. So, maybe he could mentally manipulate Khorne. Like a woman would. What did Dane Cook say? About ramen and fathers?

_mY FATheR wAS A greAT MAN!_

Yeah, that, make that happen. Did Khorne  _have_  a father? Fuck, obviously not.

He was grabbing at straws.

Fuck, when wasn't he?

Why did he bother?

Right, his life was on the line. A scornful smile reached his features. It was funny, really.

Really, really, swirlingly funny that made him want to break this fucking rake over his god damn knee.  _That was a knee-slapper!_

No, he wouldn't do that.

Fuck.

So, he wanted to live. Because life was better than death. Probably. Supposidly there was an afterlife. He wondered dismally what kind, and whether he was being silly to not just allow himself to go into it. Would he go into the Neverworld because he was apart of Chaos? No, probably not. He was a descendent, not a Neverborn. So, where did descendants of gods go? To the regular—er—afterlife? Or perhaps they just disappeared. That one was the most comfortable, of course, but he almost felt silly thinking it, with all the information he had now.

He laughed.

Be real. He didn't know jack.

But he knew that no matter he wanted to live.

So, defeat death with life.

What did it mean to live?

He groaned. Fucking great. He was a goddamn philosopher now. Well here we go, metaphysics!

No, fuck that. What was the practical answer to his question? Feliciano: he represented hero, so maybe he could be some version of life? Lovino put pressure to his temple. The kid's idea of life was skewed. Full of reckless decisions and impulsive ideas. Of open truck windows and screaming laughter.

Though, Lovino allowed himself to sadden and cease his raking, it also included an array of other things. Of depression and isolation. Phones cracking against the wall and desperation as his homelife was always on the tightropes. It was filled with a silence that he seemed to only break through ciphers, hoping that one day someone would give enough of a fuck to crack them.

Great, now Lovino was depressed.

Fine, okay,  _wonderful_ , so life was reckless and sad and whatever the fuck else. That didn't help Lovino in the slightest. You can't punch and cry at the same time, surely.

But Feliciano was also honest. Through his silence he was honest. Or maybe that was Lovino's guilt blowing things out of proportions again.

Honesty or dishonesty, the intention didn't matter. In both aspects the same feats were done. Lovino could tell anyone that he loved them, and whether it was true didn't matter. And what were to happen if he said something that he thought was true, but ended up not being true? Did that make him dishonest or ignorant? Where did the spectrum cut off?

Where was he? Surely not love. Fuck. Okay, so life and not wanting to kill and intentions.

Intentions.

Lovino needed to defeat Khorne without the intention to kill or harm him. He needed to focus on something else—something other than Khorne?

Lovino allowed himself to focus on the grass beneath him. Still so brightly colored and becoming a bigger and bigger pane as he cleared the area. He had three piles of leaves now. They almost looked enticing enough to bound into, but of course he wasn't a child.

Lovino's powers focused on his emotional state, it seemed. When he was confused it pulled in as much information others' emotions had to offer, when he was desperate it created armor, when he was striving to kill it created a weapon. He seemed to mix killing and living, so he would have to separate them. Instead of striving to kill, maybe he could strive to live. Would he be able to create a weapon based on life instead of death? Protection. Would his powers allow him to protect?

Could chaos be used for good? For  _life_?

* * *

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked again. The grimy waters wettened their shoes as they walked.

Lovino held his hands close to his sides. He was low-key bitter about a blistered that had developed over his raking endevours, but he was trying not to think about it as they walked. "I think so," he muttered dismissively. He needed to focus on the task at hand.

He was not here to defeat Khorne, he told himself a million times over. He was here to defend his position. He would not make a move of attack against him. He would use Khorne's tendency to throw blow after blow against him. Well, he would try anyway.

Arthur stood back once more. Lovino strode forward.

The beast was at the cave's entrance within moments. "You live."

Yes, Lovino had lived. Should he be feeling awkward about showing up again? It was strange enough the first time. Normal people didn't just pick fights out of nowhere—he wasn't some Hollywood bully in eye-liner destroying dolls.

Lovino closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. No. He was someone in desperate need of both focus and clear thoughts. He was not here to fight. He was not here to win. He was here to defend and to live. That was the end goal: don't die.

Wonderful.

Lovino tried to dig for whatever emotion was attached with living. Fear, perhaps? To be afraid of death was to be alive, right?

So, he tried that. He tried to become afraid.

"Do you come to battle again?"

The question surprised Lovino enough that he opened his eyes. He had expected Khorne to just attack.

Blinking, Lovino responded simply: "Yes."

The Neverborn did not seem to believe him. Lovino furrowed his brows. He had not expected Khorne to be doubtful of his intentions. Why would he be? The first time Lovino had showed up, he was nothing but thrilled to fight, laughing and harnessing Lovino's antagonism. What was different now? Did he perhaps feel Lovino's emotional demeanor as Lovino felt others'?

Lovino squared his shoulders. "Are you afraid?" he spat, refusing the flare that rose in his chest. "If you are afraid, I will leave. An easy victory!"

Breathe. He needed to breathe and to focus. He would not throw anything but verbal insults. Everything else will be passive.

He loosened the tension in his shoulders. Khorne seemed to have taken his comment personally, just as Lovino had hoped.

"I will not let you mock me!" Khorne shouted, his voice like an earthquake.

Still, even here in front of this power, booming around him, Lovino could not make himself feel fear. It was a different anxiety that told him to buck up and fight back. He had to ignore that, no matter how loud it got.

"I'm going to live," Lovino whispered under his breath, moving his fingers, trying to find the sensation of power within them. "I'm going to live, and I'm going to protect."

Nothing. He felt nothing. Khorne made his move.

Lovino dodged the attack. The sudden physical endeavor caused his heart to thrum and his veins to fill with adrenaline. The familiarity of anger filled his chest. He kicked it from his mind and he ran a sharp turn, missing the axe and slipping into the water. It was cool around his hand as he pushed himself to stand, muck slick and grainy between his fingers.

He tried to focus on that. On the feeling, the sensation. "I will live. I will protect. I will live."

The mud did nothing and now he was ducking away from another attack. His side ached from his previous encounter here, but Lovino refused to let it slow his movements, because then it would cause him to fail.

He shook his head. No! His goal here was not to fucking win. It was to live.

So, Lovino focused on the pain. It was something that he could pull energy from. A pain that rummaged through his thoughts and begged his body to stop. A pain that pinched and pulled and grew with every step.

Lovino focused on it, and it spread. Agonizingly it spread. He could imagine the red-hot heat of it, pulsing and soaring through his nerves, biting and ravishing and awful. He let out a small cry, sinking to his knee, his fingers once again sinking into the mud. Only this time it was not slick, it  _burned_.

It was working.

Lovino would live. He would live through every prickling sensation.

"Watch out!" Arthur yelled worriedly.

Lovino escaped the attack by nothing closer to a breath. Khorne's attacks had not gotten any smarter. They were still slow and tedious.

Lovino would need to defend against them. He breathed into the fire beneath his skin. He breathed into the tar seeping through his veins, oozing through his pores. He focused on an imagined weight in his hands. "I will live!" he screamed.

The swirling sensations in his gut brought on the obsidian in his hand. At first it seemed soft, malleable, but it quickly hardened around Lovino's knuckles, reflective but plain.

A shield.

Lovino could pass out here, already exhausted by the sheer hurt his will to live brought to him. It dulled his vision and caused stars to dance around his head. They told no story.

Breathing labored, Lovino prepared himself physically. Khorne took no time to consider the new predicament. He swung.

Lovino grit his teeth as the anxiety of the blow his him, followed by the actual blow. Lovino's feet were sent deep into the muck, backwards, a small commotion of water surrounding his stance, but he still stood. The axe quivered powerfully against the shield's face, before being pulled away.

With every hit Lovino was sent nearer to his knees. With every hit Khorne screamed with more anguish. He was swinging blindly. Again and again, repetitive. With every hit Lovino was loosing the will that sat behind his shield. His head began to spin and hurt, the fire within him and his muscles began to numb, wrapping him in his own armor like a snug cascate. No. He would live.

He would.

He—

He could feel his body going numb. He could see the black of his shield grow to the edge of his vision. He could taste the bile rushing to the back of his throat, mixed with the distinct metal of blood.

And then suddenly the whole world was breaking and cracking and Lovino's shield was splashing into the water and he was holding his head, screaming. Light. Grass.

Lovino panted into the ground. He could feel the great humiliation of tears rimming at the corners of his eyes. No! No! He had been so close!

"What did you do?" he screamed into the ground, pulling at his hair and pressing his forehead into the dirt. "I had him! I was doing it! What did you do!"

"You were being consumed."

Lovino shook his head. "No, I wasn't! I knew exactly what I was doing! I wasn't angry at all. I—"

"You were dying."

Lovino scrunched his whole face until it hurt. People don't die through the fucking will to live! He stammered through a crying breath. His whole body still panged torturously, a tension that dipped to the core, to his essence. "I was so close!" he cried.

"You—"

"No!" His anger was replacing his pain again. He was okay with it. It was easier to be angry right now. It kept his tears at bay and helped release some of the ache. "No! We don't have fucking time for this! You should have left it be! I was so close! You take away all meaning behind my trial if you don't leave me to figure it out! You've already admitted it yourself: you don't know the answer. I was a whole lot fucking closer to the answer than you—so why did you step in? You don't know! We don't have time!"

"Lovino—"

"And don't you fucking dare tell me time is irrelevant." He was on his feet. "Do you see this? This is a goddamn scar from the burns I came here with. It takes time to fucking scar. Do you understand? You're full of shit and I was so close and now we're going to have to go the fuck back despite me have three more of these fucking demons to defeat!"

Arthur fixed Lovino with a steady stare. It was not angry or frustrated, but it did hold something stern. "Lovino. I could see what was happening. You were doing well, but you were also being consumed by the power it took to directly stand against Khorne. You were dying. You are not strong enough to stand against Khorne directly."

"There was no indirect way about it!"

"You will need to find one."

Lovino groaned and growled and threw his foot up like he were kicking an invisible ball. It didn't make sense! He had discovered a way to beat his enemy, and suddenly it wasn't good enough because he was weak? He threw his fists against his thighs with something of a huff.

"Are you calm?"

Lovino grit his teeth. He wasn't a fucking child throwing a tantrum. Fuck. Nevertheless, he found that oxygen was supplied to his lungs. "Yeah."

"You will return after you get some rest."

Lovino nodded. The two of them began to walk back. "What is that, anyway?" he asked quietly.

"What is what?"

"Whatever you use to keep Khorne back. You used it last time, too."

Arthur produced what looked like a long, silver dog whistle from his pocket. "It's a device that was developed to temporarily incapacitate Neverborns and other dark energies. The fact that it affects you to the point of physical pain proves that you inherited a good deal of power."

Lovino scowled. "Yeah, well maybe can you stop using it? It's giving me a fucking headache."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Shout-out to everyone going back to school! My starting goal for this fic was for it to be binge-able enough to read during a school day, but I think I included too many subplots for that to've worked. Haha, whoops._

_Just put in my two weeks for my job. Hopefully I'll have a little bit of time between jobs to write. That's great news for people finding this in two years completed, awful news for those attempting to follow along now._

_Guest comment 08-14-18_

_Merci!_

_COMMENT! What is your favorite thing about fall?_

_Mine is literally everything. Fucking cute ass sweaters, having the_ option _to wear scarfs (don't need them like in the winter, but also won't die like the summer—and who the hell wears scarfs in the spring?), Halloween, horror movies being an acceptable date (go on, ask someone out on a horror movie date during the summer and NOT get asked questions about it), fucking pumpkins and cheap candy and colorful leaves and ugghhh. Alsooo, I turn eighteen this fall, you guys. Yaaaaaay._


	24. Vingt-Quatre

An indirect way to block? Was that even possible?

Once again, Lovino found himself lost in his head. Something of a grunt crossed with a scream gasped into the air, filling up the background. Lovino watched from a good distance, trying not to distract the pair, but found it hard to concentrate. Feliciano and Ludwig were practicing again. It seemed that Feliciano was getting flustered.

Lovino blinked his attention forward again, stomach quenching with the realization that Feliciano had gotten much better compared to the last time he had seen him, begging the question as to how long he had been gone. How long did it take to figure out the weakness to a Neverborn and actually put a plan into action?

Feliciano's stance seemed to have gotten better; though, set up against Ludwig's his footmanship was still shaky. The boy rumbled something as he advanced, but Ludwig easily blocked it and danced out of the way. Feliciano turned, and Ludwig's foot was in the air, catching the boy in the jaw and sending him spiraling into the ground.

Lovino had to ball his fists. This was practice, training, he had no right to jump in and kick Ludwig's ass.

Nevertheless, Feliciano was back on his feet in a flash, the back of his black glove trailing across his mouth, tarnishing olive skin with a new layer of dirt before he threw another attack. Ludwig followed his movements and took advantage of them, pushing the boy into the dirt. Feliciano scrunched up his face, kicking Ludwig's shins as hard as he could. Ludwig stuttered over him. Feliciano took this moment of weakness and laced his boot in between Ludwig's, kicking and sending Ludwig to join him on the ground.

Lovino wasn't sure if he was trying, but it seemed impossible for Feliciano to keep the elation from his face. Even when it was him being punched or kicked or sent to the dirt, he looked onto Ludwig as if he was some sort of life force. His breaths were panted, his lips always curled upwards. Every once in a while, through pained groans and vibrationally gritted teeth, he would let off something of a giggle. This came when he had found the upper hand. It was accomplished, proud,  _supportive_  as he would pause, giving Ludwig time to rise or recollect his stance.

Under a sky that grew pink, Lovino found himself wondering why he hated this scene so much. He must have hated it. It left his muscles tense and his pulse quick. It left him thinking Feliciano the biggest idiot he had ever seen. It left him wanting nothing more than to send the blond back into the dirt. It left something nagging in his chest, a sort of pressure that he might have compared to curiosity or perhaps worry.

Feliciano caught him looking. Lovino offered a tick of a smile.

"I see training went well," Feliciano chirped a while later, breaking Lovino from his train of thought. Lovino blinked, for the first time noticing that the fighting had stopped. He was currently leaning back on his palms and staring into his own lap—and now at the pair of green leather boots that appeared in his peripheral vision. He rose his gaze to meet Feliciano's. The boy smiled at him, a Cheshire cat grin that acted oblivious to the locks of loose hair sticking to flushed skin and honey eyes that glimmered and speckled both with warmth and competition. He had his hands laced behind his back, balancing on the tips of his toes.

"Uh—Yeah," Lovino coughed, looking away—looking for Ludwig. The blond seemed to have disappeared. "You—You too. You fight good."

"I fight good?" Feliciano laughed. Lovino could feel something of a warmth rise to his cheeks.

"Shut up! I'm trying to complement you!" he yelled, suddenly irritated at the idiot standing in front of him.

Feliciano just chuckled, seemingly taking no offense to the sudden outburst. "Well  _thank you_ ,". Lovino sighed and sunk deeper in his position, tucking his chin into his chest. Feliciano sat next to him. "So, what'd you do today?"

"Same thing as yesterday."

"Which was? You never told me."

He shrugged.  _Fight some demon-thing._  Yeah, that was normal. At least Feliciano's training didn't sound like it came straight out of a fucking comic book. Lovino sighed. His whole fucking life was an amateur comic, wasn't it? If only he could figure out the god damn plot. "There's this—uh—and I—uh—yeah."

Feliciano nodded. "Wow. That's amazing. Really, Lovi, I'm jealous."

Lovino shot a glare at him. "Keep it up." Feliciano stuck his tongue out at him. Lovino groaned. "I don't know how to explain it. It sounds so  _fake_."

"Well, I mean all of this sounds fake," he motioned to the area around them. "Like, what even—where  _are we_?" He held out his hands, fingers spread wide as if waiting to  _catch_  the answer, but to neither of their surprise it never came.

Lovino shook his head. "Right? And what the fuck does  _time is irrelevant_ even mean? How can things  _be_  without time? Isn't it, like, some constant in physics or something?"

"No clue." Feliciano laughed. "Ludwig tried to explain it to me, but  _whoo_  can that guy talk without seeming to say anything."

"You're one to talk."

"Hey, every word that comes out of my mouth is pure gold, Lovino. You have been  _blessed_."

"Blessed or cursed, blessed or cursed—I don't know, Fell, I just don't know." Feliciano pushed him, scrunching up his nose. Lovino smirked at him. Both of their features softened, and they shared a long sigh.

"I miss home," Feliciano admitted.

"Yeah. It's weird, wanting to be bored."

"I think I might even take the truck over Ludwig's training regiments. Do you know how much  _running_  he requires? It's ridiculous!"

Lovino laughed. "Training for the next time cops want your ass."

"More like for the Olympics," he whined, but soon he was giggling. "He always has me run this trail in the woods, but I found a short-cut. So, while he's running ahead of me, I walk through and wait until he passes me, and then start right before the trail breaks into the open. Really, I only run—" he paused, "er- ten percent?-of what he does."

Lovino nodded his head with respect. "Smart."

"Isn't it? But don't tell him. Our secret, okay?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "I dunno, bud. I think I might have to turn you in. It really isn't good to be only do ten percent of your workout."

"But it's a lot still!" Feliciano yelled, either actually or only acting worried—either way it made Lovino chuckle.

"Shut up, idiot. I'm not going to tell meat-head about your laziness."

"Promise?"

"No promises."

"Then how can I trust you?"

Lovino shrugged. "Guess you can't. You really should be careful who you tell your secrets to."

"Really? Well, let me get on the right path. Value zero vulnerabilities?"

Lovino glared at him. "Keep going."

Feliciano smiled innocently.

Lovino rolled his eyes. He knew that the kid had said something—because if there was one thing he could count on it was for Feliciano to be a little shit—but he hadn't caught it. Fucker talked too fast. He blew out a bit of hot air. "You gotta write shit down for me to get it, you know. Or just say it out."

There was a small pause. "That's no fun."

"More like it makes it too real." He wanted to cringe. Great. If he wasn't the biggest fucking idiot ever, then there was a really fucked up soul out there. He knew that Feliciano was going through shit, and now he was accusing him of being a coward. Or, at least, maybe Feliciano would see it that way. Hopefully he wouldn't. Lovino knew better though and skipped past the kid's laugh. "I don't—you really don't need—what I'm—" he groaned, rolling his eyes so hard he saw stars. "I'm here if you need to talk, okay?" he sounded angry. Well, he was getting frustrated. Fuck. "But if you want to take in your ciphers, you really need to give me some warning. And talk slower. Actually, just list off the letters. Or talk in English. English works best, really." Feliciano shook his head with a small side smirk on his lips. " _What_?" Lovino demanded.

"Nothing."

"Nothing my ass, what are you smiling about."

Feliciano laughed. "Remember that time we went to that one cemetery—the haunted one?"

Lovino furrowed his brows. R T T—it wasn't Atbash. What the fuck was he trying to say? "Last Halloween?"

"Yeah."

"Sure, okay. You dragged me to a haunted cemetery last Halloween because you're secretly emo, what does that have to do with this?"

Feliciano rolled his eyes with a light laugh. "You're the one listening to the emo music."

"Uh, last time I checked—"

"Middle school, I think."

Lovino cut himself off and just stared at the smiling boy. Feliciano didn't even  _look_  at him. He felt truly offended, but also like he could give his friend a pat on the back. "Listen, you little shit."

Feliciano twisted his face up playfully before continuing. "Anyway, last Halloween you told me you wished you could be more open with people, remember?"

Lovino blinked. He didn't remember much of that night—most of it had been spent binging on candy in the car—but he certainly didn't remember that. "I—"

"You might not." Feliciano continued without waiting. "You were joking around. I asked you if you were scared and you said that it was impossible to be scared with so many tourists around. I told you to be honest because you looked freaked out of your mind, and you just said 'No, you're the scared one. You're just projecting your fears on me. Really, I wish I could be that open with people.'"

"I don't sound like that!"

"And it really stuck with me. I started thinking about it a lot, really. Being more open with people, that is. I—I don't know. I always feel like I'm being open with people. If you were to ask me if I was sad and I was sad, I feel like I would say 'Yes, I'm sad, and here's why' but—I don't know. I just—" he laughed, shaking his head, "I don't know."

"You say that a lot."

"Hmm?"

" _I don't know_. You say that a lot." Lovino looked over at him. "You're either being stupid on purpose or don't know why you're being stupid. You stayed here on purpose, because your stupid, but then there are other times you do stupid things like cry over living and claim to not know why you're doing it."

"There are a lot of complex problems I don't know the solution to, Lovi."

"Yeah, but you should listen to your friends when they're trying to keep you out of harm's way."

There was a short pause, but to Lovino it felt like a thrumming lifetime. It was still hot out, and the pink sky had turned royal overhead, though not yet twilight. "Are you still mad at me for staying?"

Lovino could have laughed. "Yeah, and I still think that you should leave."

"Why?"

"Because you're reckless."

"That's not a reason to leave, Lovino, that would be a cause for staying."

"No, it's just a side-effect of being an idiot."

"But still not a reason."

Lovino could feel the boy's eyes on him but denied a shared gaze. He just stared to the tree-tops. "Do I need a reason to not want to see you get killed?"

"No. But I think that there's more to it than that."

Lovino closed his eyes, sighing through his nose. What a dumbass. He could see the boy's tears just behind his eyelids, could feel his anguish and hurt. He could feel the acidic guilt build up under his skin. Of course, there was more to it. "I don't want to hurt you again." Lovino only opened his eyes when Feliciano broke the long pause between them to start laughing. Not only  _laughing_  but laughing  _hard_. He was practically falling over himself! "What's so fucking funny?" Why was Feliciano always laughing at him when he was trying to be honest? Fucker!

"Nothing, nothing," Feliciano gasped. "It's just—you're so funny when you're angsty like that." He swept his hair into his eyes, straightening his face in a crude smolder. "I just don't want to hurt you again."

"Change of heart! I'm going to beat you into last week!"

Feliciano squeaked as Lovino playfully lunged forward, scampering to his feet and jumping away. "How cruel! I thought we were friends!"

"Think again, fucker!" Lovino screamed, standing and chasing after him as he ran into the trees, following the obsessive laughs. He had just about caught the boy, would had fallen into a giggling ball against a tree, pawing at the air with one hand and holding his side with the other, choking on the "no"s he continuously tried to muster, when the blond reappeared. The pale one trailed behind him.

"Lovino," Gilbert said, his tone too serious. Lovino stepped away from Feliciano who quickly recollected himself, clearing his throat with an innocent smile sent towards the taller blond.

"Yeah?"

"You're wanted at base."

"For what?"

Gilbert and Ludwig shared a timid glance. "There's someone that wants to talk to you."

Lovino scuffed. "Cut the shit and tell me what's happening."

Ludwig eyed Feliciano, Gilbert fixed him with a set stare. "One of the gods from the Order is demanding to speak to you. We think that it has something to do with the—uh—continuous disruptions of the string."

Lovino raised a brow. "Oh yeah? And what should I tell them?"

Feliciano blinked between the lot of them. "What's the matter?"

Lovino crossed his arms. "These fuckers decided to build a time machine and leave the blue prints to it in the hands of a serial killer."

"You said—"

"I never said anything. Anyway, you can trust him."

"I don't understand," Feliciano said.

"So, what do I tell them?" Lovino demanded. "If they ask about it."

"I—You don't say anything. Tell them you don't know anything."

"There's no god of truth, is there?"

"No?"

"That didn't sound sure."

"Listen," Ludwig bit for the first time. "If you want to be arrested for conspiracy against the Order, a death order, by the way, then say something. If not, say nothing."

Lovino glared at him. "I wouldn't be charged with shit!"

Ludwig sneered at him. "Are you willing to put your life on that?"

"Stop!" Feliciano yelled. "Stop—what are you guys talking about!"

"Just," Gilbert sighed, shaking his head. "We were sent to come get you. ASAP. Luddy," he was practically glaring at Lovino as he spoke, "fill in Feli, I guess."

Lovino just glared back, though he was practically smiling. Maybe for feeling as if he one-loved these fuckers, maybe because he had somehow found a way to get Feliciano in on the secret he hadn't figured figure out himself.

All he knew was that the smirk faded by the time they came to the doors of the base. The long twisted building brought on dread. He started wondering if he really knew anything. Certainly not. Just that someone had a notebook, and that said notebook may have held information that may or may not be part of the problem everyone was having. He didn't have codes or contact with spies or anything, really. All he saw was a notebook, all he overheard was a conversation. The only questions were whether his loyalties lay with the two blonds. Would he rat them out to save his own skin?

Probably.

People cast careful glances their way as they filtered through the halls and up the stairs. Lovino cast a glance towards the string room. Nevertheless, people seemed to be staring at it, waiting for an impending doom. Lovino shook his head. He needed to clear his mind. If he went in there with something stupid like this on his conscious, then he wouldn't be able to focus on the gods. He needed to find a way to get them to talk. If Arthur and Rei were running in there for answers, and if Gilbert was right and the only power they held was control over the string, then they would know something or another about what was happening. Of course, that just meant that Gilbert and Ludwig could be right and that Lovino's was being suspected for helping the culprit. Or knowing too much. Or both?

He groaned and took a hand down his face. Fucking great. He was thinking in circles about meaningless things instead of calming down. Well, if things that put one's life on the line were  _meaningless_.

The vast doublt doors to the  _godly room_ —Lovino would have sniggered if his breath would relent from choking him—were in front of him too god damn soon. He quickly wiped his palms on his shirt and drew a deep breath.

"Remember—"

"Yeah, yeah, let's just get this fucking over with."

And then the doors were open. And then he was inside.

* * *

Lovino stared upwards, ready for the court of eyes to be on him, the mockery to begin. However, unlike last time, the skies were not filled with dipping shadows and voices. There was only one. It was jagged, piercing. Lovino slit his stare into a glare. He didn't need this god to speak to know which one it was.

"Lovino," he ground, as if to set a score from a million years ago. "Call me by my fucking name."

"Do you expect to get anywhere by being so petty?" Anubis responded calmly.

"What do you want from me."

There was a long pause. Lovino felt that the grand room was dimmer than the last time he had visited it. The god above him studied him at length. Lovino aggressively studied him back. Clumped form, eyes like that of a cat, shadows impossible to decipher from a wonky silhouette. When he spoke his outline moved, and two yellow orbs bobbed, but there was no true outline of a mouth. A piece of the shadow grew away and stretched, never separating but becoming lanky and awkward as it came back in. An arm. A sigh. "Must it be you?" he seemed to be speaking to himself. "Antonio Carriedo, you have met this man?"

Lovino nodded stiffly. "Yeah. He's kinda the reason I'm in this mess."

"He is far from the reason you're in this mess. You are—"

"Technicalities. What do you want?"

"You still have yet to learn respect for your god."

Lovino clicked his tongue and moved to settle his weight to one side. His pulse tremored slightly, be it through anger or trepidation didn't matter because in both situations he seemed to become an asshole. " _Gods_. None of you have it. Now what about Antonio?"

"He is at large and has seemed to discover a way to disrupt the string."

So, they didn't know about Gilbert's little invention?

"It's him that's screwing everything up?"

"You only feign ignorance."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Well, anyone could have guessed it. Guy comes into power, suddenly things go bad. Two plus two in the end. What does this have to do with me?"

Anubis ignored his question. "He has been evading the Confraternity's foot soldiers. A group cornered him and he killed them." The god took a break, offering Lovino a moment to offer his sympathies. He had none. Faceless people losing lives he hadn't known existed three seconds prior. Only silly men like Feliciano would feel bad for such things. "That puts five people on his list."

"What list?"

"I have a list on every human. How many they have birthed, and how many they have killed. Antonio Carriedo has birthed none and killed five."

Lovino shook his head. "No. No way. Your list is way fucking off." He had seen the bodies surrounding the warehouse. He knew for a fact that Antonio had killed Gabriel, and he was certain enough to  _swear_  that he had some kind of hand in the deaths of the couple dozen burning bodies. "He's killed way more than that! When—Before I came here, I found one of his fucking store places for fucking victims. There were a lot fucking more than four."

"Antonio Carriedo has killed one child, and four foot soldiers. That is all that is on his list."

"Then who the fuck killed all those men and women at the warehouse?"

"The bodies that you saw were not victims of murder. They were self-sacrifices. Sadık had quite a cult following, and it was their suicides that gave him power to control the  _Hollows_. They saw Sadık as a god. They were fooled, but they were not murdered."

Lovino furrowed his brows, staring into the floor. "But—" he tried to make sense of it. Slit throats—he remembered slit throats! Who the fuck cut their own throat for a supposed god? For a real god! Who the fuck would do that? Who—

"He promised a better afterlife. He told his people to follow, using his knowledge granted to him by the Confraternity to gain their trust."

"No, he fucking preyed on the weak," Lovino spat. "No man or woman in their right mind's would fucking do that!"

"You would be surprised what people would do in the name of a higher cause."

Lovino growled to himself. History was full of it. Heil fucking Hitler. Child crusades. Fucking people were so eager to find a way to kill or to die or to send someone else out to do both. It was fucking chaotic.

It was  _fucking chaotic_.

"What do you want from me?" Lovino demanded again, prepared to not relent this time. Not get side-tracked by irrelevant details. So what? A mass suicide somehow gave a man power over supernatural beings? Gods existed, now. Everything was up in the fucking air. Roll with it or get bogged down by theories.

"If he goes on much longer he may destroy time itself."

"So send out more fucking soldiers. Send out a couple fucking gods. I can't help you!" He couldn't even defeat Khorne!

"No god will fight him. Very few in history have been prevalent to  _Hollows_  and their abilities."

Lovino could  _feel_ his eye began to twitch. "No. Fucking no. This—You have it all wrong! This is not— _not_ —that type of story. I am no Gryffindor fucking snowflake. Okay? I'm not the boy that lived, I'm the boy that said fuck off. No!"

"Listen to me."

"No! No!  _No!_  I am not strong enough to defeat even one of those things. Not a  _Hollow_ , not a Neverborn, fuck, I don't even think I'd beat Antonio in a fist fight. And guess what? We don't have fucking time to do anything about any of that. Ar-har-har time is fucking irrelevant here. Guess what else is: me. I am. Leave me out of  _your_  problems and  _try to find a less direct way to fucking beat Antonio_. Have you even tried scaring him? Hey, yo, there are, like, a bunch of gods getting kinda pissed at you. Stop or die. Just don't tell him that  _Hollows_  might be stronger than they appear and maybe you have a set god damn plan."

"Listen to me!"

The world seemed to dim even further. A million invisible candles blown out by an earthquake. Lovino refused to back down. He was not going to be dragged into this. He—He couldn't be. There was so much for him to still learn. He couldn't be put in a situation again where he could lose control. There was a fucking list. Tick, tick, he already had one down—maybe two. Did anyone ever keep tabs on the insane chick? Did it count as him killing her if she offed herself, driven there by his actions? How was blame dealt? No! He couldn't let himself get lost again. He was going to do good! He was! And…and jumping back into this fight before he even figured out how to defeat the first Neverborn on the list? It was ludicrous!

"I'm not asking you to fight Antonio as you are. You are right, you need more control. You need to become stronger."

"Then—"

"Listen. You are weak and out of control. But there is a way to fix that." Something stiflingly emerald, a glowing green ember, was produced from the depths of the shadow. Something dismal and scarily powerful washed over Lovino. He wanted to turn away from it, but he also wanted to reach out and grab it. To hold it against his skin, to breath in the vapers that elapsed from its core. He swallowed. "You are powerful. Despite the generations that have passed, you still possess an impossible amount of Chaos's abilities and attitudes. It is unlikely that any of your children will hold the potential you do."

"That—That's great," Lovino tried to stutter, to break away from the spell. "But—"

"You are the last hope of securing Chaos's seat. You may very well be the last to carry out her plans—the whole reason she decided to procreate with a human. You are the last of Chaos's descendants that can absorb the Neverborns and become the next god of Chaos."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_So why did this chapter take four days? Well, there are three different paths that we can take in the near future. I wanted to assess to make sure all my pawns were in place and that I was choosing the correct path, and then when I did that I wrote the chapter, decided I could have done it better, erased it and started over. Because,_ of course _, this story is known for its literary quality hahahaha._

_Honestly, your guys' comments get more and more savage as we go on. I'm looking at you two Lilyoffire and Syntax-N . Poor guy is just tryna get by the best he can!_

**_Shout out to Demijayy_** _. Some of you guys that like GerIta might (will) like her current story_ The Meeting _, and those who just like to see the Ita brothers talk might like one of my personal favorites by her:_ The Vargas Brothers _. It's not a pairing thing, just two brothers talking. (Feliciano is a little shit, of course) Also, her hetero pairings are so sweet. And I love that her cannon Lovino is_ aggressively _straight. And also, Gilbert stayed with a girl since middle school? Yas. So, go check her out. She's dope._

_Guest Comment 08-17-18_

_Pumpkin flavor is one step closer to **EGGNOG**  BRO! geeeeT READY. 1) It's the end-ish of August, so happy god damn birthday. How old are you? I would guess, but I suck at guessing things. 2) a good account to check out would be Howabaka. Their whole favorites list is Itacest. Also I think there's a community with itacest pairings or something. I don't know. But I _do  _know that once you get an account I expect a PM because, bud—_ bud _. You and I are going to be friends and you have no choice in the matter. None. Except the little technicality of human rights or whatever. But aside from that ahahahahaa *emojicon of sorts, prolly*_

 **Comment!** Wow. So what are your guys' mean comments now that Lovino is being presented with the option of becoming a god? Let's see if we can fit another dick joke in, huh?


	25. Vingt-Cinq

Lovino paused. What? That—no, no, that wasn't possible. Man didn't become god. God—well,  _ugh_! He stared. And then continued to do that. What was he supposed to say to something so…so stupid? "No." An elementary response. "No. No.  _No_?" Did he own a larger vocabulary? "Fucking no!" Ah.

"You are refusing an offer to become a god?" Anubis seemed taken aback.

"Obviously—why would I agree to such a thing!" Lovino demanded scrupulously. "I can't control myself, let alone the power of the Neverborns! I can't even defeat Khorne in a fight. I can't figure out how to out smart him, and I'm too weak to face him in any other category."

"You will become stronger."

Lovino shook his head, laughing bitterly. "Oh yeah? And tell me where the hell that will land us!"

"You will gain control. You are answering blindly."

"No. No! I—I don't want to become more powerful. I—I am—I don't—I—"

"You're afraid."

"Of course I am!" Lovino screamed. "Who wouldn't be?  _I possess the powers of fucking Chaos_. I—She—Do you not understand that?"

There was a long lapse of silence between them. Lovino couldn't think straight. His energy seemed to be focused on the emerald amulet no matter how his mind tried to concentrate on the matter at hand. He clenched his fist, his arms shaking with what he wished was anger or something he could understand or recognize. Instead it seemed that a strange new power was fueling his body. He shook his head again, trying to break himself out of it before he screamed or collapsed or both.

"Chaos," Anubis finally announced, "is not all bad."

" _Excuse me_?" His tone took on his personal inabilities and growing frustrations. He needed fresh air. Something other than this. He was getting dizzy. He dug his nails into his palms and screwed his eyes shut. Breathe. Focus.

"Chaos is a force that balances everything. It is intense, yes, but it needs to be. Without it everything would fall into nothingness."

What were these visions? They broke into Lovino's head without invitation. The tears of a mother who had just lost a child, a fire ravishing a forest, a million men clashing in battle. Lovino fell to a knee, trying not to scream. Failing. He grabbed his head. "Stop! I don't want to see!" he howled, desperate. "I don't care! I don't want to see!" A blood filled ocean, a pile of disease ridden corpses. Children, crying. Parents, dead. Crying. Starving. Falling. " _Please_ ," he choked. The desperation choked him, banging against his skull like a jackhammer. He could feel everything. Everything. Everything!

And then, it was over.

Lovino collapsed, breathing heavily into the cold tile. He cried, unable to control his shaking limbs.

"Without chaos, there would be no growth."

A new picture played, despite Lovino's eyes being open. It blinded him away from where he was and took him to the image of a woman with her chin held high, a sapling surrounded by ash, the laughing and conversation of two men from different cultures—from the same culture. Mixed and anew and powerful.

"Chaos is the only reason strength exists." Anubis's tone was slow, insightful. A nostalgic twinge told a million stories, but Lovino couldn't grasp a single one. He balanced on his palms.

"Why—What do you—" he coughed, unable to keep his head from spinning.

"I am the god of the underworld. I have seen how chaos can destroy. But I have also seen how it can create, grow, and inspire. It is not— _she_  was not bad."

"Then why—"

"She refused to grow herself." It was simple, to the point, broken. "Chaos believed herself to be the epitome of nature and order. She fought for power and control, and when she was refused the position, and when she was unable to manipulate others to give it to her, she brewed within her own resentment. In an act of her own desperation she decided to put an end to all previously established stability. To her it made sense. She was doing the right thing. But in her attempt to do what was right, she pushed aside everything that contradicted her ideals. She ignored anything and anyone that attempted to right her ways. Her intelligence and power blinded her from simple morals and sympathies. Because of that, we were forced to put an end to one god of chaos."

"So now you have four."

"No. Now we have none. The Neverborns were no better than her. They were worse. None of them could think beyond themselves and their personalities, they all refused to cooperate with the Order, they wouldn't even work with one another. In the end, they were banned to the Neverworld."

Lovino looked up. "You have gotten on fine without her. I will be no better."

"Your humanity is what Chaos was missing."

"But if I become a god, I lose that part of myself." He didn't understand. How could he? "I—No, you can't possibly suggest that another god of Chaos is the answer. To anything. I—I don't want to be a god." He just wanted to sleep. He just wanted to do something good. Something better than himself. He didn't want more power. He couldn't even control the power he already had! Chaos inspired, but he wasn't looking to be a muse. No. He wanted to—to something! But whatever that something was, it wasn't through this.

Was it?

"You are not her." It seemed his words were a reminder to himself more than they were for Lovino. "The mistakes that were made in the past are something to be learned from now. I believe that you have the ability to succeed Chaos and re-establish an order that was lost long ago." The glowing object was in front of him suddenly. Enticing and powerful. Without thinking he wrapped his fingers around his. He gasped. "I believe that you can accomplish in ways that was impossible for her."

Lovino stared. His palms tingled, and his heart thundered. His head calmed and suddenly he felt well enough to run or jump or anything. He felt as if was somehow complete with this object. "Why?" he asked slowly, forcing himself to look away from the jagged rock in his hand. "Why do you think that? I have done nothing to prove myself!"

"You're right. You haven't. But those around you have proven something of themselves. Have proven to be stronger than me."

* * *

Lovino rolled the object around in his hand. He sighed, leaning backwards, stewing in the silence that he had found himself in. It wasn't hard, finding silence. All he had to do was leave base and walk until he was alone. Wildlife rumbled in their own ways, but it wasn't distracting. Well, not all of it. At times it caused something of anxiety—Lovino didn't know what fucking thing could eat him out here—but in the end all threats scampered off without coming into view and Lovino was left alone. He couldn't see the sky beyond the heavy vegetation above him, but he knew it was bright. He closed his eyes. It was warm.

"So," he said to himself slowly, glad to hear his own voice, but also scared as to what he was about to say. "I could become a god, huh?" He chuckled. "What a stupid idea." Still, there maybe was something to it. He blinked. "Why did he bring up Antonio. Surely he's not implying that they can't defeat him." Surely not. It was silly. A whole order of gods unable to take down a stupid police detective-turned psychopath. Or maybe it was the other way around. Either way didn't matter. Antonio may have had the  _Hollows_  on his side, but that was all.

He lifted the amulet above himself, studying it with one eye closed. "Perhaps it's something of hers?" he mused. There were specks of black and brown tarnishing the green points. It was rough in his hand. A comfortable sharpness. "He never told me how it worked." Lovino groaned. Not that he was planning  _to_  use it. But, still! What did the bastard expect? For Lovino to just magically know how to use it? What was he supposed to do? Throw it at the fuckers like a poke ball or some shit?

He let his hand fall to the ground, throwing an arm over his eyes. "I just want to go home." Where ever home was. He was sore from his last fight with Khorne, his mind still tripped over the images that had been forced upon him, he was hungry, and if one more person asked him what happened he was going to snap. Seriously, if they wanted to know so god damn badly why didn't they just ask Anubis? Lovino was positive about one thing, and that was that he still didn't fully understand what the fucker wanted. For Lovino to become a god? Why? Everything seemed perfectly in order as was—well, minus the whole army of  _Hollows_  thing, but aside from that! They didn't need another fucking god. Lovino didn't want to be the god even if they did.

All Lovino wanted was to slink back into the background. Show up to help out a little bit, maybe, but here he felt like there was too much pressure placed on him. Baseball caps and coffee, that was his calling, remember? He never asked for any of  _this_!

He squeezed the stone.

He didn't ask for any of it. He didn't want any of it. Yet no one seemed to understand that. Except him. He understood it, didn't he? He understood that this feeling of anticipation was brought on by an anxiety and not a hope, right?

 _Right_?

* * *

Lovino was met by Feliciano's laughter when he walked into the common area. The two of them had been given key cards so they could come and go from the base without a chaperone. The common area was on the fifth floor of the establishment. On the sixth were the first group of sleeping rooms, the seventh and eighth continuations of them. Everyone got their own room with a bed and single chest at the foot of said bed. Lovino's personally was semi-filled with clothes he had been given, though that was all (the ones he came in had been thrown away). As he descended the cork-skew staircase, he caught the group of three he now often times found himself seeking out. He didn't care too much for Ludwig, as it seemed Ludwig could only look at him like he were some fucking spectacle, but Gilbert and Feliciano were good.

There wasn't much of a crowd now, though. Much less than ever before, really. Lovino didn't mind. He even wondered if they could wait out the straglers and get the whole area to themselves. A few feigned fire places were dotted around, sporting colors that Lovino was sure would only be possible in a chemical fire, chairs of different shapes, sizes, and consistencies making for both unique conveniences and peculiar aesthetics as, though the lot of them were  _comfortable_ , it looked as if they were all made of jagged, purple and blue crystal.

Feliciano jumped from his place, almost tripping over the fake fire that they had sat at. It flickered, a motion sensor aware when things got too close to it, but when Feliciano backed away it came back on, a spectrum of white and green flames, dancing around blue tips.

"Lovino!" he laughed, quickly running over to him. He grabbed Lovino's wrist and pulled him away from the two blonds, quickly dropping his volume. "They've been telling me about the time-machine," Feliciano gushed quietly, "but I hardly understand a word they say. We're gonna do this, okay. I'll keep them talking and you take notes, and then when we get home we google all these terms. Until then we nod and smile and pretend like everything makes sense."

Lovino shook his head with a chuckle. "Spoiler alert, that's been my plan this whole trip. Minus the taking notes part." Feliciano giggled, pressing a notepad into his hand. Lovino almost laughed. "You're actually serious?"

"Well, I thought it might be rude to take notes. Seeing how that ended last time and all. But you've never minded being rude!"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Thanks."

"No, thank you!"

"Do you have something to write with?"

"Oh—uh—" he quickly looked over Lovino's shoulder to the two blonds. "Do either of you guys have a pen?" Lovino pinched the bridge of his nose, refusing to turn around and trying to stile his laughter as Ludwig offered his writing utensil to Feliciano without a second thought. "Here you go!"

"Thanks."

The two turned back to the blonds. Lovino made a show to ready the notepad, sending Ludwig a short, smug look as he put the tip of the pen to his tongue and cleared his throat. He really wished he hadn't lost his reading glasses. He could see himself now, legs crossed, lips tight, pen poised over paper. He felt like a bitch-faced journalist looking for the latest gossip.

"What are you doing?" Gilbert sighed.

"Who, me?" Feliciano asked innocently, pointing to himself despite Gilbert looking directly at Lovino.

"No, Feli, not you."

"Are you sure, because what I was doing was—uh—I was thinking over all that stuff you were saying. What was that you said about the cube thingy? Tell Lovino. I think he'll find it as interesting as I did!"

Gilbert chuckled. "You want me to go over the allusion found in  _The Time Machine_  again?"

Lovino furrowed his brow. "You mean the novel by H. G. Wells?" Gilbert nodded. "Oh, yeah, I read that." He took a short, heavy pause. "There aren't going to be any Eloi or Morlocks in this explanation, are there?"

"No," Gilbert laughed.

"What?" Feliciano asked, his face falling as he found himself alone in his confusion.

"In the book," Ludwig explain gently, "humanity was able to evolve into two different species. The Eolie and the Morlocks."

"Surface people and underground people." Lovino said simply. "Think of it like—uh—you know the book City of Ember?"

"I think I read that in school, sure," Feliciano nodded.

"Well the Morlocks were sort of like them. Except for the cannibalism."

"Does it really count as cannibalism, though?" Gilbert asked.

"Yeah, they are described as two different species." Ludwig added.

Lovino clicked his tongue with a light hum. "I don't know. I always felt like they were cannibals."

Feliciano shook his head. "I really gotta read more."

Lovino laughed. "Stop buying all those stupid actions and pick up a classic once in a while."

"Hey, you liked that one I gave you a while back!"

" _The Devil's Bagman_  that you got for three bucks?"

"Yeah!"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "That was a sequel, bastard."

Feliciano shrugged his shoulders with a giggle. "It was still easy to make out!"

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, so back to  _The Time Machine_."

"Yes, well, I was trying to help Feli understand the concept of time as a whole." Gilbert explained. "That nothing can last for no time at all and still have an existence. I used the instantaneous cube analogy that Wells presented."

Lovino nodded his head. "Okay."

"Yeah, and then I asked how it was possible for there to be a land without time if time was so important for existence. If everything needs length, breath—"

"Breadth."

"—thickness, and duration, then surely this place can't exist."

"Yeah," Lovino agreed. "And neither can the other worlds. How does the Neverworld exist without time?"

"You know about—oh! That's where you've been training!" There was a gleam to Gilbert's eye.

"Whatever, if you're going to agree with Wells you're contradicting the whole idea of this place!"

"That's because Wells' theory only works for the string," Ludwig said. "And it wasn't all right, either. Wells claimed that there was no difference between time and the other three dimensions  _except_  that consciousness moves along time. That's not true, though. Consciousness is not something that moves. It's a sentience kept by a soul."

"Like Plato's metaphysics," Gilbert cooed.

"Okay, but that doesn't explain the time thing." Lovino argued. "So, we have a soul, how does that let the trees here grow and wildlife to  _happen_?"

"It doesn't. This land, and all the other lands that are not affected by any string, are actually controlled by something called the  _Syntaktis_ , which, in retrospect, is controlled by the gods." Ludwig said.

Gilbert laughed. "We actually have to thank you grandma-down-the-time for it."

"What do you mean?"

"In the beginning, when the string was being created, the gods wanted a string for every world. The warp—er—uh— _Chaos_  fought for there to be worlds free of such confinement, where sentience and free will could be one-in-the-same. She ended up getting such a great following behind her that the number of worlds without strings vastly outnumber those with."

"Vastly," Ludwig agreed with a nod of his head.

"Really?" Feliciano asked. "How many worlds have strings?"

"Well, just ours."

"Which makes up," Ludwig paused for a short breath, "a few dozen, maybe. They ended up putting all worlds with strings on one plane. It's what we know as the universe. Other worlds are separated, but to make the string easier to manage they condensed the ordered worlds into one big one."

"Wow," Feliciano gushed.

"Wait, but, then why is everyone so worried about the string being put out of business?" Lovino demanded. "Sure, it breaks apart the universe, but so what? There are other worlds. It's not the end of…the vast-er universe."

"That's where your questions about life become relevant. Life  _needs_  time. It's impossible to have a life without it. Even the gods, though their lifelines are much longer than ours, depend on time. Land can exist without life and without time, but to have growth there needs to be some sort of order. The string does not only focus on the happenings of the universe. It has every living person and thing on it. It's an exact balance, which is why Feliciano living was such a big deal."

Lovino shot the kid a quick look, but he didn't show any immediate reaction to the subject. Perhaps he was getting over it. Hopefully. "So every single person is on the string? Is their life  _story_  on there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, do you see who they meet and whatnot before the death date?"

Ludwig hummed. "Not exactly. There are energy levels that the string tracks."

"It's what it balances," Gilbert added quickly.

"It is very precise, because of the whole law of not being able to create something out of nothing. There is so much energy that exists, and even the gods can't create more."

Lovino nodded. "Yeah. My powers always feel like they're dependent on emotions around me. And I'm always really tired after using them."

"Exactly," Gilbert agreed. "Your powers allow you to manipulate energies, but you can't create it. The string keeps careful balance of the energy."

"So, what would happen if the string were to be destroyed?" Feliciano asked, worry dripping from his tone. "It keeps breaking down. What—" he cut himself off with a light squeak.

"Well," Ludwig responded to him gently, "the string  _needs_  to be able to adapt because of the existence of consciousness. If it was a sure-set thing it would have crumbled long ago."

"But, if it  _were_  to be officially destroyed," Gilbert chuckled almost nervously, "then there is likely to be a swift end. I imagine implosions and exploding heads."

"Shut up, Gil," Ludwig groaned with a light roll of his eyes.

"Bite me, I hope to go out in an awesome, Hollywood-esq way, okay?"

"It'd be more like meeting the vacuum of space," Ludwig sighed. "One moment you'd be comfortably alive, the next it would feel like there was no pressure and that you couldn't breathe."

"Oh," Feliciano giggled, looking at Lovino with a desperate want for consolation following the images Ludwig had presented.

Lovino sighed. "Don't worry, Fell, they're not going to let the string be destroyed." Feliciano nodded and returned to the conversation. Lovino stifled a groan. "So, you've known all of this for a while now, right?" Lovino asked.

"Yeah, it's simple stuff everyone learns when they first join."

Lovino hummed. "Yeah, okay, then why the  _fuck_ did you put it in jeopardy?" There was an uncomfortable silence that crashed into the floor. Lovino hummed again to break it.

"Well, I've been looking into it," Gilbert's tone had gotten lower, his red eyes jumped around the room, conscious. "Our clocks work because the  _Syntaktis_  is fueled by energies manipulated by the gods. They essentially rewrite the string so that one energy is in another place."

"And your little invention doesn't do that." Lovino concluded.

"Exactly. But technology cannot manipulate energy like the gods can. Like  _you_  can. So, I had to focus on something else. On relativity, to be exact."

"I don't follow."

"Er—okay, so Einstein had a theory that time was some fourth-dimension fabric—the space-time, is what it would be considered in your day, I believe. Anyway, he theorized that if one was able to bend this fabric, they would be able to manipulate time itself. The main theory came from dilation—or, how fast one moved. The faster they move, the less time they go through. It was even theorized that astronauts returned to earth very, very slightly younger than someone identical to them would be that would have remained on earth. Well, this opened up the possibility of warmholes. A link between two points in the fabric. If one could move fast enough, faster than the warmhole would collapse, as they collapse very quickly, and had the right technology to both pass through a break in the fabric as well as  _break_  through the fabric, then time travel would be possible."

"But you just said time was based on energy, not fabric."

"Exactly! Which is why it was a whole lot easier to figure out! See, my machine takes advantage of the cosmic strings that the string was forced to succumb to when created into one universe. The machine can't manipulate energy the same way the gods can, but it can use energy to manipulate physical things like mass. The cosmic strings are regions so dense that they can warp the actual version space-time around them. When bent in particular configurations, time travel is suddenly possible! It goes from a godly power to an acute science."

"But by bending the cosmic strings, one is bending the actual string." Ludwig's tone was much drier than his brother's. "By putting a strain on the string, it causes a distribution that, prolonged, could cause irreversible side effects."

"Like snapping a branch off a tree?" Feliciano tried.

"Exactly," Ludwig offered him a dismal smile. Feliciano, upon being praised, brightened—only to re-humble himself in the face of  _oh shit_. "And, if a cosmic string is broken, there is a good possibility that the energies between the two endpoints would clash so violently that time itself wouldn't be able to recover."

Lovino frowned down at his empty notepad. Quickly he jotted down:  _fucktard_. If Feliciano wanted to look something up to understand what was happening, Lovino was pretty sure this was all that he needed. "I thought you said you had security measures in place," Lovino sighed. "How the hell do you protect against  _that_?"

"By not actually using it on the string," Gilbert said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Lovino furrowed his brows, fixing Gilbert with a confused stare. "So your security was not to use it?"

"On the string."

" _What_?"

Gilbert almost chuckled, but the seriousness of the situation seemed to have fixed his attitudes a little bit, at least. "There's a string and a  _Syntaktis_. These are what the worlds and our universe count on. But there is also something known as  _Praeteritus_. This is a string that had been created originally to control all worlds dealing with the afterlife. Chaos was able to convince Anubis not to use it, and it has sense gone unused and forgotten." He smirked. "However, a little—er—tweeking of a clock may or may not be able to switch  _which_  string one ends up on."

Lovino shook his head. Fucktard didn't even cover it at this point.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Haha, you guys just read a paper on time-travel theory written by someone who knows nothing about time-travel. That is my true goal. To waste everyone's god damn time._

_Fun fact, though. We are reaching the middle of Act II of a three Act story. So, uh, yay. If you guys can't tell, I am an awful first-draft story teller. This shit is all over the place. But, I think it progresses how something in real life would. Messy and confusing. (It's what I tell myself so I can sleep at night. Just go with it.)_

COMMENT! What do you think Anubis means?

ALSO! Comment a song. I don't care what song. I offer the whole soundtrack to the Anastasia Broadway musical. Fun fact, the antagonist and the love interest sound the exact same, so unless you have read the synopsis it is easy to think Demetri is bipolar af.


	26. Vingt-Six

_Not only did we get the 69th comment today, but today is also humpdaay. Also: I am a literal 12 y/o boy._

* * *

Feliciano's voice was soft, easy to get lost in, hard to concentrate on. He had promised that there was something interesting to show Lovino, and so the two of them, after their conversation with Gilbert and Ludwig had been cut off by a stream of people coming into the common area, took to their walk. Lovino stared at his feet as he walked. There was so much more to think about than Feliciano's recap of whatever Gilbert had told him about Prussia or whatever, so the words he spoke drifted in the background. Like a song. Every once in a while he would tune back in.  _Yes_ 's and  _Tell me more about that_ 's were easy ways to keep him talking. Lovino wasn't looking for silence.

He felt that he had been outside here more than he had in the accumulated 25 years of his life prior. It was an obvious overstatement, but everything here was so vivid and drawing that it definitely felt true. Or, at least it felt more important. More important than his childhood on Kansas plains and Colorado mountains. The strange creatures slowly became less strange, the fawning colors were nothing but a kingdom of mundane rightness. A half smile drifted down to his shoes. How plain would Earth look when they were allowed to go home? How did the air smell there? He took a deep breath, attempting to fill the bottom of his lungs, but it was just shallow. His chest almost felt contracted now, but he pushed it aside. Pushed aside the frustration of the shortcoming, because he knew he would try again. He knew that sometime soon he would succeed. That's all he needed to know. That success was  _coming_.

 _Coming_. That success was  _coming_. He tried as hard as he could not to think about the inadequacies that would follow it. Tried to push away the fear that he was wrong. The stone in his pocket, separated from his skin by a centimeter of fabric, burned with every step that he took, pressing further into his leg, indents forever scarred. Scarred because it did not actually burn and Lovino knew that it was all in his head. That the idea of becoming a god, no matter how much he tittered at the thought, was apparent and appealing and so incredibly stupid.

He took another breath. He couldn't put it into words, what he was feeling right now, but he knew that something about it made him hold the breath that finally touched his stomach. He kept it secured in the back of his throat until the pain of it went numb. Solid.

"Oh, oh, get ready," Feliciano said, putting a hand on Lovino's arm and stopping. They stood in the middle of nowhere. Lovino blinked and looked around. He listened. Nothing particular seemed of interest.

"Yes, okay, this is wonderful," Lovino said sarcastically, "but I feel like we could have achieved this view thirty minutes ago right outside the base."

Feliciano shushed him and pointed forward. Lovino watched.

The trees here didn't stir under a wind. They never did. It was so strange. Their leaves were so green that Lovino found it fake, especially set up against the image of the bright yellows and oranges of the willow that Arthur had showed him, the tops of the stirring tables that he stared at from the peak of the mountain, the murkiness of the Neverworld that thundered with activity and chitterings and booming attitudes. Here, everything was still.

Until it wasn't.

The greens of the leaves blinked. An impossible indigo stared directly at them. Feliciano's hold on Lovino's arm strengthened before sliding away. Lovino blinked and leaned forward. The indigo blinked away, scared, and Lovino realized them to be eyes.

"What-?"

"Shh, stay still. You'll scare him away."

They sat until the blink happened again. Feliciano was so patient, Lovino was growing tired of standing there, staring at leaves and whatever hid itself within them. Slowly eyes moved, and leaves changed colors, and behind bark moved and slithered. The creature unveiled itself. Lovino blinked.

Four tails danced around themselves, one orange, one black, another yellow, and the final one a murked color of the lot. They danced together like a flame. The creature's body was small compared to the size of the tail, and Lovino found himself comparing it to a lynx or a fox or a lizard—or maybe a racoon. He couldn't figure out which feature to focus on. The pointed ears or the small almost-snout or the stiff scales or the stoutness of the body.

Feliciano carefully made his way to his knees, cajoling it towards him. It was a bit hesitant, but with a bounce Feliciano seemed to remember himself and pulled out a small offering. The creature crawled forward timidly, sniffing the crusts that Feliciano offered. Suddenly the colors of flame burst into that of blues and greens, picking up speed. Feliciano put a hand on its head as it ate, slowly making his attention down its body until he came to the tails. Lovino, for the first time, noticed a bandaged stump.

"He lost a tail," Feliciano said quietly, quickly returning to an up-right knee. "Ludwig and I found him earlier. Ludwig said that he's called a…an amph—er—an—" Feliciano shook his head with a light laugh."I can't remember. It was weird. Sounded German or something. He was hurt pretty bad, and so we fixed him up and let him off here." Feliciano beamed up at Lovino. "Ludwig says that this is a popular spot for their kind and that he should be able to meet up with his family."

"Do you think he has?"

Feliciano shook his head. "No. I've checked on him twice now, and he's always at this tree. I mean, it's nice, being able to see him get better, but at the same time it's kind've sad."

Lovino dropped to his own knees. The creature recoiled, flames back to red. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"You're right. But isn't he cool? I thought you would think so. Ludwig says that he's just a baby and that he can become the size of a tree! And that if you're lucky to see a gathering of them, that all the colors and spectrums look like the fires in the common room or like the Northern Lights or something. Wouldn't that be so cool to see, Lovi?"

Lovino nodded. He put out his hand, but the creature bared a mouth of sharp teeth. Lovino decided that he really should stop trying to be an animal person and pulled his hand away.

"I hope next time I come here," Feliciano continued thoughtfully, sitting on his heels, "that he won't be here. That he would have found his family."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "If he's just a baby, don't you think it's dangerous to be around him? If the mother really gets that big you might end up getting killed just for proximity."

Feliciano ran a hand through his hair. "Never thought about that."

"Of course, you didn't." Lovino sighed. Still, he wasn't irritated. He was used to his friend's thoughtlessness by now. Anyway, the way Feliciano was looking onto the creature, awe mixed with sympathy and curiosity, told Lovino that the boy really didn't care. If anything, he would see it as an opportunity to see a full grown amph-er-an. Lovino couldn't help but smile as he stood up, wiping off his pants. "Alright, then, let's go before we die."

The walk threatened to be just as it was on the way over. Lovino stuffed his hands into his pockets, holding the stone against his palm. The image of the creature played in his head. A weird fox-dragon-dog, he decided. That's what it was. He wondered how much someone would pay for a picture of one of them. Nothing, probably. They would just see it as a good drawing or some sort of photoshop. He then decided that he would have to sell a physical version of one of them to get any money. Quickly, he shook the thought from his head, humored. Leave it to a magical land to make someone a poacher, right?

"It's just I'm curious is all," Feliciano was muttering beside him.

"Curious about what?"

Feliciano fixed him with a short look before rolling his eyes, bemused. "You weren't listening."

"Sorry, I was thinking about—" er, "dinner."

Feliciano sighed. "I was asking you what happened. With the gods. I know that you don't want to talk about it—by the way, you should probably apologize to Gilbert, he was just worried, you didn't have to threaten his mother—but, well, you looked really scared when you came out. It made me kinda worried. And then you just disappeared for a long time. No one knew where you were. Arthur thought that you might have run off to some mountain but never found you. I—Well—It's just that with everything happening like it is, and with how worried Ludwig and Gilbert were about you getting called in—I—I don't know. I'm curious."

Lovino hummed at that. Feliciano didn't look at him, and it seemed that he might even be looking for a repercussion for asking. Lovino had been really angry earlier about the subject. Gilbert's mother really didn't deserve what he promised upon her. Ludwig's, maybe, but that was just on the basis that Ludwig was a little bitch. Lovino was painstaikingly conscious of the stone in his hand as he spoke. "The god of the underworld wanted to talk to me."

Feliciano instantly brightened. Lovino was almost hurt by the action. "About what?"

"About Chaos—the god, not the—"

"I understand."

Lovino nodded. "Yeah. Well, he—he wanted to talk to me about her. I guess he thought it would help me understand my powers better." He decided to leave the whole  _becoming a god_  thing out of it until he had a better grasp on that situation. Or, maybe he should tell someone. Maybe they would help him sort out his feelings on the matter. No doubt they would tell them how stupid it sounded.

"What did he say about her?"

Lovino blinked, forgetting the stone for a moment as he tried to remember. "He—He said a lot, I don't know. He told me that chaos—the happening not the person—"

"Right."

"He told me that it was needed for power or something."

"That chaos is needed for power?" Feliciano asked.

"Well, he said strength. Growth and strength. He said that it…balanced things? I don't know. He was really all over the place. He did insist that Chaos—person, yeah, okay—wasn't bad. But then he goes to say that she tried to destroy everything, so I don't think he understood what he was saying. You can't be good and destroy at the same time?" He was sure of it. It was something that he had been thinking about a lot. "He said…he said that I'm a lot like her. But that I'm different because I'm human." He trailed off, stone always present. "That my humanity is what makes me better than her, I guess."

"Better than her?"

"I—Well—He said that she was—" Lovino sighed. "He said a lot, but I don't think he was listening to himself. He kept making contradictions. He goes and—er—tells me about all these awful things and then follows it up with good things. Like, war. How can war be good! It can't, that's how, but he somehow thought that it was because of strength I guess?"

Feliciano smiled over at him.

"Don't look at me like that, bastard. If you were there you would have been just as confused."

The boy chuckled. "I think it was the growth part that he was trying to tell you about."

" _What_?"

"With war. Alfred has this thing that he says, that war made the man. I don't think he's referencing real war, but I think it can apply to it. He says that people like to cause problems because they can't help it, and that's why crime will never disappear." Feliciano giggled. "He likes to say it's job security. My father would respond to him by saying something like "That doesn't mean that people shouldn't try to stop causing issues," and Alfred would get angry and say that my father was being ridiculous. I don't know, he's really into guns and he would always tell us how  _this war_  made inventors intuitive enough to better the last edition or—uh—model? I don't know, I was never really all that into guns, but I think I got the jist of it. And I think that's what that god was talking about. With war people die, but they also create. Even if a good deal of those creations are used kill one another."

"Well what about a mother losing her child. Can you pull out a silver lining to that one?"

Feliciano shook his head.

Lovino frowned with a huff. "He should really be the god of not making any sense. He goes onto say that chaos helps things grow, but that the chick didn't grow, and that's why they did that thing with the Neverborns."

"Neverborns?" Feliciano asked. Right, Lovino had never told him about those.

"We'll get back to that. Just, imagine, like," he shook his head, "I don't know. We'll get back to it. But they essentially killed her." Feliciano nodded him along. "But, like, she wouldn't grow, yet she caused growth? How does that make sense? And I guess she was super fucking manipulative or some shit. And she must have gotten a hold of him, because he was sitting there fucking justifying her. Saying things like she only meant well and shit. Like, so what? She still tried to destroy everything! And he used his position as an excuse.  _"I'm the great god of the underworld and have seen how chaos can destroy. But I have also seen how it can_  yadiya." He was ranting now. He was too distracted and in his head to notice that Feliciano wasn't interrupting him anymore. Just listening and sending him that stupid smile.

"And how can you have no morals or sympathies and still be good?" Lovino continued. "He said something about her inspiring—inspiring fucking what? Someone to fucking kill themselves? No on does good in chaos. Chaos is the thing everyone  _doesn't_  fucking want. She is the human embodiment of anarchy, and we've all picked up a god damn textbook to see how  _that_  plays out. She can't be good! She can't because she was the god of chaos and my fucking humanity is the only thing that will keep me from being so…bad."

He frowned into the ground. He felt strange, like he had said too much, given away too much information. It was a twinge in his chest that prompted him to cut himself off. He squeezed the stone until it hurt. He needed to be human. That was that. His humanity, sympathies and whatever else, would keep him grounded enough so that he wouldn't hurt anyone else.

There was a long silence between them. Feliciano broke it. "And despite all that he still thought she was good."

"Yeah, I guess." Lovino shrugged. "He said that I could be better than her—or accomplish more or whatever—because the people around me are stronger than he was. I don't know what the fuck that means, but I know I don't want to accomplish more than her. She was destroyed for a reason, and I don't want that. To give anyone a reason." What if she had a kid so that they could destroy everything like she wanted to? Lovino refused to play along. He would destroy himself if it was needed.

The two of them walked along a bit further. Feliciano watched ahead of himself. He looked almost amused. Lovino watched his feet. "It sounds," Feliciano began slowly, thoughtfully, almost to himself, "like love."

Lovino furrowed his brows towards the ground. "Let me assure you, Chaos was not setting out to ruin the  _everything_  to show her love."

Feliciano laughed. "No, not her. The god of the underworld. It sounds like he was in love with Chaos."

Lovino shook his head incredulously. "Yeah right. Not everything can be pegged up to be some fucking storybook shit."

Feliciano shrugged his shoulders. Still, that stupid smile. "I guess you're right."

Lovino stared for a while before looking away. What a stupid thought. Anubis wasn't in love with Chaos—or, hadn't been. He couldn't've been. Chaos can't be loved. It was fucking  _chaos_. It was impossible to love such a force. Chaos killed and broke.

It was impossible. And stupid. And Lovino stared at his feet again because suddenly he just didn't want to think or talk anymore.

Feliciano let him brood in his silence. Until he didn't. Really, Feliciano spoke more than he thought. Lovino sighed and welcomed the background music once more. When they returned, Lovino hid the stone beneath the clothing in his chest.

* * *

Lovino grinned when he woke up. Thoughts were weird. They needed time to grow, but sometimes Lovino wasn't able to pinpoint where the roots of the thought were. Sometimes it was as if they just floated down to him. And that was exactly how this solution came to him.

"Arthur, hurry the fuck up!" Lovino demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the table top.

"Let me eat, Lovino," Arthur ground for the third time.

"We don't have time to meditate over your fucking dirt water."

"You drink coffee."

"There's no bag of dirt in  _mine_."

They were sloshing on their way to Khorne within no time. Lovino held onto his solution. He wasn't able to hit him, and he wasn't able to block against him, but maybe he could manipulate him. It made sense! What if he was able to find a way to use his powers to send him images like Anubis had? Find a way to deter his anger!

It all made wonderful sense.

Until Lovino stood in front of the Neverborn of bloodlust and anger. He didn't have a single clue how to manipulate  _people_ with his power, much less  _Neverborns_. Still, this was his place to practice his powers, so he had to give it a shot here.

Start on hard and easy is easy.

Once the saying was in his head, it wouldn't go away. Taking a deep breath, he readied himself. Khorned approached him.

"Are you going to use your shield again?" His tone must be perpetually angry.

"No," he said simply.

"Because it didn't work?"

Lovino wondered whether it did work to some extent, and that was why Khorne took on the characteristics of a paranoid asshat. He was poised in position before Lovino even had time to answer.

Lovino's heart rose to his throat, instantly the wounds from his previous battles raging and looking to be expanded upon for protection. Lovino pushed them aside and attempted to feel for an energy that would allow him to manipulate Khorne's energy rather than his own.

Gilbert had said that his power focused on manipulating energy. That whatever he was creating was already around him, because he couldn't create it. Therefore, he had to focus on what was around.

But Khorne was angry. That seemed to be all! How could Lovino play on  _that_?

Their dance began again. Lovino made a pained note that he really didn't seem to change at all. A splash and a slash. If anything, Lovino was getting good at dodging. It was predictable. A boss battle being fought for the third time because Lovino kept on running out of lives.

And then something changed.

Lovino didn't see it at first. But as he was focusing on Khorne's energy, his thoughts, attempting to turn the intense feelings of violence into something malleable, the large beast before him swung his axe downwards with one arm, while the other brought another weapon swinging at him from the side. A long rope and chain. Lovino cried out as he was suddenly caught in the web of chain, dropped in the water, trapped. He screamed when the sudden feeling of anger washed over him. It was so powerful that it seemed to short-circuit his nerves. No longer could he feel his pain. There would be no shield even if he  _tried._

Khorne drew the handle of the ball and chain backwards, dragging Lovino along with it. He caught a mouthful of water between his cries. The chain tightened and tightened.

What was— _gah!_ His head pounded and his body convulsed in a seizure. There was so much anger! The chains burned into his skin. He choked on the water and the mud.

He needed to get out of the chains, but he couldn't. He wasn't strong enough! They were going to kill him! He couldn't focus on the energies, only the fact that he couldn't breathe through the water. Only the sudden smell of burning flesh that seemed to infiltrate his head.

He wasn't going to make it. There came no silver whistle, no let up. Khorne raised his axe above his head. Lovino watched through a single slitted eye. Arthur was nowhere to be seen—not that his peripheral was anything to be counted on. Lovino was alone. He was trapped. He wasn't going to make it.

He screamed at the top of his lungs. This, this feeling of desperation and hopelessness, it fueled his lungs beyond capacity. It put this anger and demise into perspective.

It put the weapon around him into perspective. Wrapped around his body was not a chain on fire. There was nothing around his body. Nothing at all.

Lovino rolled just in time to not be hit by the axe. He panted and sputtered, splashing to his feet. His heart pounded against his ribs.

What the fuck was that? His skin was not burned, and the sickly scent was gone—aside from what had been burned into Lovino's memory. Khorne let off a mighty howl, coming forward. The world shook.

Was he going to throw another phantom attack? Lovino didn't know what to do? How could he possibly face things that weren't real?

He couldn't stop the spiral of questions. They all fell to one thing: his insufficiencies. He couldn't manipulate Khorne like he had told himself he could. He couldn't deflect his powers. The angrier he got the more powerful Khorne got. He could do nothing! He was useless. He would fail again and never learn to control his powers. Himself. He would never achieve a single ounce of good.

It churned, rotten. Acid in his chest, spreading from his heart and to his lungs, causing his legs to want to give out. He stumbled into the mud. On his knees, he stared into the murky waters below.

He had failed.

The energy that came from him was sickening. It flowed down his arms like a dark oil, curling around his hand and fingers before growing into a stronger shape. He grasped the handle, attempting to stand.

The axe was quicker than him. Lovino yelled with surprise, trying to block the newest attack with the newly formed weapon.

Sharp, shattering. The sound that elapsed into the air was similar to that of a mirror being broken in an empty room. Yet, the weapon didn't move from the position Lovino had put it in. Lovino was still in one piece, safe under the broad double-edged blade he had formed.

With great effort he was even able to push Khorne away.

Panting he let the tip of the heavy weapon rest in the mud. He wasn't able to hit Khorne, damn it! How would another weapon help?

The acid boiled around his wrist. Suddenly the blade fell back to oil, dripping from his fingertips into the water. Lovino shook his head, closing his eyes and trying to  _think_  before once again he was forced to move. But he couldn't. Well, he couldn't think what to do. His mind played a dozen other tunes to him. All seemed to be attacking, asking, over observant of things that didn't matter to the situation at hand.

The oil never stopped dripping. Feeling his time to stand was over, he opened his eyes. Nevertheless, a bounding axe. He dodged, throwing his hand out as he did so.

The oil solidified, but not into a blade. Into a disk that flew outwards, stopping inches in front of Khorne. Lovino blinked at the now silver creation.

What was that? Khorne cried out and threw a punch. Another sound of shattering glass, yet it stayed strong.

Maybe Lovino could trap him? This disk did not seem to feed off him like the shield did. If Lovino was just able to get enough out there?

He threw another. And another. All of them knew their target and suspended themselves to hover around Khorne. The Neverborn swung his axe, but it didn't work. None of them even cracked. Soon he was trapped, surrounded by silver disks.

Still, Lovino found that he was unable to feel satisfaction at this. With every disk he threw he felt worse. Like he was bound to fail. Like happiness for a descendent of chaos was the most ludicrous thing in the world. Like he was a mere nuisance; nothing more.

And in the pits of that a power surged. The plates suddenly ignited in a brilliant white light before dimming. Lovino looked up in shock to see each one of them had produced the face of a mirror.

Khorne hit and punched before grabbing his head and covering his face. Lovino could feel, for the first time, Khorne's anger vanish. It was left with nothing, though. As if Khorne was nothing without his rage. A hollow figure quivering before a list of mirrors.

As Lovino stared, the double-edged blade re-appeared in his hand. This time it was not black as it had been before, but reflective. Its tip was in the mud once again, and Lovino could see the image of Khorne from its side.

He looked like he did in real life. So why did the angry Neverborn change so?

Lovino set his sights forward. The mirrors closed in until they were attached to the Neverborn. Cysts digging into his skin. Violence surged for just a moment before it died away into hollowness.

Lovino ran forward with his sword, lifting it to hit, to win, to finally succeed and defeat this entity, to ignore the acid under his skin that prompted him to just fall to his knees and curl into his own thoughts and insecurities.

But when he raised the blade, he caught his own reflection for the first time.

Unlike Khorne's, it was not the same as it was in real life.

Like Khornes, it was a monster.

Lovino dropped the weapon. It fell into a stream of oil before it even hit the waters. Before Khorne Lovino fell to the ground, sinking deeper and deeper into the mud, deeper and deeper into despair.

Khorne howled as he was released from the binds of the mirrors. He made no move to attack Lovino. He left.

Arthur's hand was on Lovino's shoulder, congratulating him. But Lovino was numb to the touch, to the words. All he could see was his own reflection. All he could hear were the words of scorn that barricaded his focus away from the world.

He wasn't even given the option to fight back tears.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_MEPS starts tomorrow, guys. Also, I should be taking my DLAB. I'm shooting for Arabic, so wish me luck_

_Yay, Lovino finally did it. And now we're going to TEAR HIM DOWN TO THE FUCKING BOTTOM because it's what's best for him._

COMMENT! Lovino finally beat Khorne! The next Neverborn to beat is Nurgle, the Neverborn of despair and morbidity. He beat anger with reflection, but what will he beat misery with? Comment your thoughts!


	27. Vingt-Sept

Lovino wriggled his toes in his shoes. He focused a bit too hard on how the leather reacted to it; how the slight strain caused the bed under his big toe to pulse. It was a strange distraction, but it was a distraction, and something that he needed. Especially right now as those around him were whispering pensively together. Something kept sparking in his chest. He didn't know what it meant or why, but he did know that he would rather be in bed puking his guts out than whatever sick form of torture this palpitating probation of needles between his ribs was; puking in bed  _alone_. Because he felt there were already a million ways that he had messed up socially, and he had yet to offer a single word to the conversation.

"At least I know that it works well," Gilbert groaned into his hand. Over the course of the last however-long all of them had become tired and a bit out-of-sorts. Feliciano's hair lay askew, his fingers combing through it, patting it down, only to mess it up as he tried to make sense of the sheer level of consequence before he allowed it to once again settle with the group's inability to do anything useful; Ludwig had taken to leaning back slightly in his chair, watching the sky that was available above them with a long sigh stumbling through nostrils over tightly strung lips.

And then, of course, Lovino scowled into the table as he realized he really couldn't do anything about this. The string was in shambles again, and no one could track Antonio thanks to Gilberts little inventions.

"We could tell Arthur?" Feliciano offered quietly. "I mean, you can't really get in trouble just for having something planned, can you?"

Gilbert offered him a shake of his head. "If anyone in the Confraternity were to discover my notebook I would be arrested four times over and killed for conspiring at least twice."

"What about those other prisons?"

Gilbert shrugged. "No use making one of those for a human. I've never been able to read the string and I don't know what my energy level looks like, but I'm positive it's not long enough to make the Order consider throwing something together. Not for a human."

 _Not for a human_. Lovino scowled into the table. "Kind've dumb to have the thing in the first place, huh?" Lovino said, almost to himself, keeping his eyes cast downwards.

"Yeah." Ludwig agreed humorlessly.

"Give him a break, you two," Feliciano demanded. "He didn't know."

"He knew."

"Well, he didn't know  _this_  would happen, okay? And you two aren't being exactly helpful right now. So, shut up if you don't have anything of use to add." Lovino rolled his eyes, flexing his feet until the seams hurt.

"Thanks, Feli, but they're right," Gilbert laced his fingers behind his head with a light chuckle. "I shoul've listened."

"Listened to what?" Arthur asked, coming up from behind him.

Feliciano brightened immediately, shooting Arthur a wonderfully deceiving grin. "Ludwig was saying that Gilbert used to wear—what was it? Leather pants?"

Gilbert immediately straightened with a slight yell. "You  _told him_?"

Feliciano giggled. Arthur just nodded awkwardly. "Right. Well, if you four are ready I think we better get going."

"Four?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes. The next bit of Lovino's training will be a lot like Feliciano's for a little bit."

Gilbert laughed, punching Lovino's arm. "Oh yeah. I'm going to teach you how to be an awesome fighter!"

Lovino looked at him with a shake of his head. "As if. I'll have you on the ground in three seconds. Flat."

"Wanna put money on that?" The pale man teased with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Is money even relevant to you?"

"No, but it is to  _you_."

"Fine, you win I give you money, I win you give me pictures of you and your leather."

Both of their eyes slitted into glares, both with a tint of mockery.

"Deal."

"Deal."

Arthur cleared his throat as their palms came together to seal the pact. "Lovino will not be fighting you, Gilbert. He will being trained by Ludwig."

Lovino's stomach almost dropped.  _What_? And so he articulated his disbelief.

" _What_?" Ludwig's voice mixed with his, the both of them leaning forward. Confused and very much not in agreement with this decision.

"Gilbert and Feliciano will be working together for the time being, but, Ludwig, you're going to be training Lovino."

Feliciano bounced with a joyful cry. "Sweet! Gil, you can go over that chokehold again."

Gilbert sniggered. "The nutcracker?"

Ludwig furrowed his brow at the new conversation. "What? When did you start teaching Feliciano moves?"

Gilbert smirked at him. "I wanted to give him some tips on your weaknesses."

"And you went with banging my head in the ground?"

"No,  _no_! Of course not!" He started laughing into his hand as he muttered, "but, you know, gotta have a game plan for once you're down."

Feliciano offered an innocent smile. "Don't worry, Ludwig, I'd never use it on you. It's just really interesting and could be useful one day!"

Ludwig shook his head incredulously. "Traders."

Feliciano and Gilbert just laughed.

"And, Lovino," Arthur said, seeming to catch the dark glare he was sending Ludwig. "This part of your training is going to be focused on your powers. To be more specific,  _not using_  your powers. As I have seen, you let your powers come whenever they please. So, we will be training you on suppressing them, as well as calling to them and making them do  _exactly_  what you want. You will be working with Ludwig for the latter, and me for the former."

Lovino huffed and stood up. "Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

He ignored Feliciano when the kid called out, a bit worried, and the throw-away comment from Gilbert. He almost thought that he had even heard Ludwig say something, but he was already too far away. He didn't care about this. He didn't want to fucking do this. He just wanted to be alone, damn it. Fuck it.

And when he found himself alone, for three million and a half irrelevant seconds before the others joined him in the sparring circle, he leaned against a tree and stared at the ground with his arms crossed across his chest. He imagined how he must look. A frown indented permanently on his features, his heel digging into the ground restlessly, his eyes never giving up the sky. He sighed deeply with a shake of his head. An ironically bemused smirk touched a single corner of his lips. He was painfully aware of his heartbeat, and the constant twinge of  _what am I doing?_  His fingers twitched and his breath felt heavy. Gritting his teeth until his jaw tensed, Lovino dug a claw into his arm.

Three million and a half irrelevant seconds were mixed with three million and a half venomous comments that Lovino drew amusement from. No one said that he couldn't use his words—just no powers. And if there was one thing Lovino could do it was pull shit from his ass.

Hi group broke from the tree line. Lovino grinned privately to himself. Pushing off the bark he threw out his arms. "Let's fucking go!"

Feliciano smiled at him. It almost even looked fucking sincere—but that fucker didn't know how to be sincere about anything. He was a shitshow of desolate honesty. So, Lovino shot him a smile of his own. He really fucking hoped it got the message across.  _Fuck off_.

"Gilbert and Feliciano, you two take that rink. Ludwig and Lovino, this one. I will be observing you two, but, Gilbert, please stay on track despite not being watched."

Gilbert smirked. "Oh, yes, of course. I was going to start with a little jog through the woods." Feliciano started wining, but the pale man sent him something of a look and the kid seemed to catch on.

Lovino found himself clenching his teeth again. If he wasn't ready to fight now, then he had never been ready to fight ever.

"Ludwig." Arthur handed the tall blond a pair of gloves similar to the ones Feliciano wore. Ludwig nodded at him, humorless.

The two of them strode to the rink. Ludwig gave him a once look-over. Lovino just smirked.

"Take a deep breath and spread your feet so they're shoulder width apart," Ludwig ordered mechanically. "Square your shoulders and find your balance—Alright, we'll work on that. Now stair-step your feet—like this—bend your knees slightly—no, keep your shoulders squared. This is your first fighting stance. It will allow you to defend yourself easier and keep your balance when someone attacks."

Lovino kept himself from lunging forward. He didn't need to know how to defend, damn it. He needed to know how to fight and how to become stronger. His problems have been that he was weak! Still, he took another deep breath and nodded.

Ludwig got into a similar stance, except wider, his body pivoted away from Lovino, his fists at his side. "Good. Now, block."

The tall blond caught him square in the chest before Lovino even had time to process the fact that he had moved. Lovino was sent to the ground, winded. "The fuck!" he coughed.

"Get up."

Lovino sneered as he stood.

"Good, are you ready for the next one?" Lovino glared as he better prepared himself for a punch. "You're feet need to be closer together."

"Fuck off and throw."

Ludwig pursed his lips.

Within moments Lovino was back on the ground, growling and grabbing at the dust beneath him as if the grains would help him. He could feel his hatred for this man seething beneath his skin like a sickness. No, his hatred was not the fucking problem here. It was the asshole standing above him. It was the icy stare that held no particular emotion. It was the essence of this fucker.

When Lovino stood up, he could feel the grains of dirt solidify at his side. The hilt of the weapon in his hand was more than welcome. Cooling.

"Lovino." Arthur snapped. "You are  _not_  prohibited to use your powers in this fight."

Lovino clenched his jaw tighter. The longer he looked at Ludwig the more he wanted to break his skull. The more he wanted to step into stance and destroy him. He breathed out aggressively through his nose.

Ludwig's expression never changed. He only changed his stance, raising his fists from his sides and bringing them to the front.

"Lovino!" Arthur demanded again. "Put it away." He closed his eyes as he opened his fingers, knowing that the weapon would disappear before it even hit the ground. His jaw was growing sore, but it was a comfortable sort of sore. "Good, now continue on.  _Suppress_  your powers." Once again, the Brit fell to the backlines to observe.

Lovino took to his stance once more. He focused on his balance, allowing his eyes to flutter open . Ludwig nodded, a silent:  _ready?_

Lovino balled his hands into fists:  _yeah, but you're not_.

This time when the tall blond came forward with an attack, Lovino moved slightly and grabbed the man's arm, following the forward momentum and turning, attempting to push Ludwig to the ground. Ludwig, instead of falling forward, stepped forward and caught the back of Lovino's ankle with his own foot. Lovino tripped over it and was in the dust once more.

"The fuck!" Lovino screamed, kicking Ludwig's shins as hard as he could before jumping up and throwing a messy punch. He wanted to make a fool of this fucker! He went for the face. Ludwig blocked each punch, every hit causing his features to harden and movement to flow together—as if Lovino was becoming more and more predictable! He growled, grabbing the back of the blond's neck with both hands and throwing his knee into the area just below the man's ribs. "You're a fucking bastard! A little god damn fucking bitch. Do you  _hear_  me?"

Lovino's empty words were cut off when an elbow caught him in the neck. He sputtered and punched weakly, tears blurring his vision as his other hand flew to protect the offended area.

"You ugly piece of fucking trash!" Lovino ripped as he recomposed enough to throw his foot back, bringing it forward for a powerful kick. Ludwig promptly caught his leg and threw him to his back. Lovino groaned, head spinning and eyes crossing.

Arthur was yelling at him again. His powers must be acting up again, but once more Lovino didn't care. He just wanted to rip this fucker apart.

"You're nothing but a child," Ludwig said above him, calm.

Lovino threw himself upwards.

"Lovino! You cannot—"

" _I'm the child_! What does that make you? Some sort of fucking adult? Just because you know how to fucking  _fight_? What have you done? You've hidden behind a fucking line of gods. You're a dog, that's what you are." Lovino spit on the ground. "You don't even have enough incentive to fucking question it. At least your brother has that. You're no better than any fucking thing. Fuck you and your fucking better-than-you attitude. Because you're not better than a fucking ant. A dog and a child. Fuck you."

The tall blond paused slightly at the words being strewn at him. Something played behind the icy exterior. Lovino took it as a win. Of course he did. "You fight to protect your fucking self. I didn't see you rushing in there to save that Natalie chick.  _You_  knew what was happening, that she was in danger, and yet you only ran in to hold Feliciano back! Here what do you do!" He threw his hands up. "You give lessons? You run around when you're told? What do you do! What do you do!" He could feel his chest tightening, his shoulders pinching with tension. "Nothing. Nothing that—Nothing! So, fuck you."

"Are you done?"

"No, I'm not fucking done. You act like you're all mighty, strong, and fucking dependable. You talk down to everyone as if you know better. You boss Gilbert around like he's not capable of thinking for his god damn self. The reason for that? Because  _you_  can't think for  _yourself_! What gives you the right to think for others then, huh? Feliciano seems to take to you, doesn't he? He's always fucking talking about you! Well, don't worry, that's just because he's a god damn idiot and likes it when people think for him. So I'm sure you get along swimmingly with him. But aside from that and your fucking brother you're alone and it's because you're not a real god damn person. Rules and orders! Fuck you!" Lovino ignored the audience his words had garnished. He ignored the silence from the other pit, the way Arthur had worked his arms over his chest. With nails piercing his palm he continued to scream. "But that's all fucking okay, isn't it? You're okay with it. It keeps you safe, doesn't it? Well I see through you, bastard. You're not worth a god damn piece of grass. You're blind. You can't protect those around you. You're a fucker and a bastard and I hope you fucking suffer because of it!"

Ludwig only blinked. "Shoulder width apart, bent knees, squared shoulders—"

" _What_?"

"Ready? Block."

Lovino was on his forearms, coughing and spitting blood, trying to blink past the dizziness. Fuck. The bottom of a boot crashed into his spine, laying him flat. He groaned under the weight.

"You are ignorant to how you hurt others, and how others are feeling. Empathy is a thing learned by those who have grown beyond the selfishness of juvenile tendencies. You obviously haven't."

The pinning weight was lifted. Lovino didn't move to get up. His muscles had lost their fire and tension. Still, his fists lay balled and he breathed into the dust. Closing his eyes, he steadied his head into nothingness. Slowly he worked his way into a standing position.

But when he turned around, he found that he was alone. The others were leaving. He stumbled back into the dust, closing his eyes as he tried to focus past the blinding pain in his head.

At least he got to be alone. He hadn't imagined it to be this bitter.

* * *

The chatter of the wildlife surrounded him again. The sky above was too red, too dark, too filling. He breathed as deeply as he could, but for some reason every one of his movements was hindered and he wanted nothing more but to scream. He stumbled into a small clearing. The overgrowth stuck to the tree lines. It looked as if everything was flattened by trodded tracks and rolling stones. The sky made everything look purple. Too purple!

He could feel the burning beneath his skin. It scared him, it caused something to appear in his core, something impossibly heavy, a black hole, wishing to swallow him up. He didn't know how to let it or how to fight it.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do!" he screamed as loud as he could, acting out against the air in front of him. The feeling grew, pulling him further into himself. "What—Who—Why—Why! None of this makes any fucking—how am I supposed to fix this? What am I supposed to do! I can't—he—I-!" He threw away his wish to articulate his feelings and just yelled and screamed and sunk to his knees. The next slash through the air conjured a black slate. With a blink it was silver, reflecting a churning image that lodged a knife in Lovino's chest. He stared into it. "What are you?" he whispered desperately. "My future or my present?"

There was no answer. Lovino blinked slowly. Why couldn't he cry? Why couldn't he cry! His feelings were dry, and the longer he sat in front of himself the less he felt. Further and further, into his knees and into his head.

Because here he couldn't blame it on anyone but himself.

* * *

Feliciano's eyes flicked to find his own before they were downcast, evading. Lovino furrowed a brow, a bit confused as to why Feliciano was here, sitting in the sparring center alone. "Hey," he said quietly.

"Hiiyas," Feliciano responded into the dirt, picking at the bottom of his boot.

Lovino shoved his hands into his pockets. Purple had turned to a clearer hue, but everything still wasn't alright—right. Everything wasn't right. The colors were strange and it made him dizzy—not in the head but in the body. He stood at his line of bark covered accomplishes, ones he wished never learned to speak, and stared. First at Feliciano, and then at his shoes. Silence and chattered mixed to become one, and soon he felt he was alone again. It was more comfortable to be alone, anyway.

And then there was noise. He started, attention suddenly hanging off of every word. "Do you really think that?"

"Think what?"

"That—I—" the boy shook his head. With a breath he started again. "I was okay with not knowing. I was okay with—if you know tomorrow then you don't need faith. It seems silly to you, I know, but it was important to me. It  _helped_ ; comforted, even." Lovino's voice refused to ask his question; then again, he didn't try too hard. Feliciano's words flowed as if they had been stuck in his head for a while now, and Lovino would let him talk. The boy brought his hands together over his mouth and nose, his elbows digging into his thighs. "It's what made—I just—" his voice quivered and shook. He was on the verge of crying. "I was okay with not knowing and so were they, Lovino. They were better than me. They—They—I could never—" his breathing echoed and pierced. "And I'm sorry. I know what—I never meant it—it's just I—I couldn't—but I know now so I guess it doesn't matter, but—Lovino I can't unsee it. I can't stop thinking about her. About—Every time I try to sleep or relax, her words, and the way—the absoluteness, confidence. I can't. And I—"

Lovino shook his head slightly. Who was he talking about? Michelle? Still, he stayed quiet.

"She looked at me and comforted me and was everything that I could every want to be," he almost laughed to himself. "She was there. She—She was—and then she—her words. I can't unhear them. They—She said that the only way to live for something more than us was to die for something more than us. She was so beautiful in her declaration. But, I was scared, Lovi. I couldn't bring—I couldn't—and when they—it—I couldn't. I was too weak, Lovi, and I still am because—I don't want to die, Lovino." He tipped his chin to the sky, crying openly now. "I watched her and the others kill themselves. They all were so sure of themselves. She slit her throat, but she didn't die right away. No matter what I did I couldn't save her. I couldn't. I didn't want to die, and I didn't want her to die. But she wanted to die. And I realized that for the first time I didn't know but that it wasn't okay because I didn't want to die."

"But, as I watched her die, I realized how much of a fool I was. I realized that it wasn't my choice. It wasn't Grandpa's choice to die, but he did. People die. It's the only thing in life that—the only thing that all living things have in common, you know? And I was being selfish. What if my life could mean more? What if I, too, could die for something more than myself? I could be more than this. I—By not I am—there is no excuse! And so when you came, and you—I was okay with it. I was happy, because He was giving me a chance to redeem myself. But it didn't work, and somehow, I—I cheated, Lovino and I can never take it back."

"I can't unsee her confidence. I can't unhear her words. I know that there is no omnipotent god, but I still feel that there is. I still, I can't put it—I still pray and I tell myself it's because it helps me sort out my thoughts but if I'm being honest it's because it makes me feel like there's more than this. This. What even is this? Is there nothing more beyond us? Is there nothing better than a string of energy that can be warped to screw someone else over? My whole life I have put the answers somewhere else. I was happy to put the weight of the world on someone else. There was a plan and a meaning but now neither of those things are true and I can't stop thinking about the woman who killed herself thinking that there was. I can't—I can't stop thinking that I rather have died ignorant than live in  _this_."

"And I know you think I'm being stupid. I'm just being some cry baby. And—Well, you're right. I've tried to stop it. I've tried, but I can't. I just don't know."

Lovino remembered Anubis saying that the bodies in the warehouse were not victims of murder, but those that had committed suicide, swayed by the original leader of the  _Hollows_. He had never imagined Feliciano being stuck in a situation where he would have seen it. He mentally kicked himself as he looked to the sky. Ludwig was right, wasn't he?

Feliciano had always been touchy. Quick hugs and easy "I love you"s. Lovino never was one for such sentiments, but the boy's racking sobs killed him and so he did the only thing he thought may help sooth them. Feliciano fell into the hug as if it were the most natural thing he had ever know, crying into the nook of Lovino's neck. His words were strung out and wet, but Lovino just tightened the embrace. He wasn't able to cry for his friend, his tear ducts only perceptible to physical pains, but he could feel the pure despair that trembled through Feliciano. It was pulled back and restrictive, scared and scarred. Lovino recognized it.

Because when Lovino had found Feliciano in the warehouse, there was something repressed away from him, something that Feliciano kept away from the happy images he expected to be his last thoughts before death. Even now he kept it away from Lovino, tried to keep it away from himself. Words would never make it better. Nothing would. It was something Feliciano would be stuck with for the rest of his life, and there was nothing Lovino could do to make it better.

Lovino couldn't help fix the boy in his arms. He bit down on his cheek until he tasted blood, tightening his arms until the two of them were pressed so tightly together that Lovino could almost find comfort in the pressure.

Ludwig was right and Lovino couldn't protect his best friend. He wasn't strong enough. Mentally, physically, intellectually. He had hurt him. He had allowed this to happen—he should have followed the detectives to the fucking warehouse! He should have done everything he could have to protect Feliciano, not kill Antonio! But he didn't. And now—now  _this_.

He rested his forehead against Feliciano's shoulder, his fingers finding the bottom locks of the boy's hair. The boy's sobs had turned to light, heartbreaking giggles before tearing back into cries and redundant phrases.

And Lovino related. Because he didn't know either. He had always felt that he did. That he had one over the idiots that prayed to the skies looking for redemption from the crimes they committed soberly. That he knew where he was going. What was going to happen. Die and decompose—it was comfortable, just as Feliciano's god had been to him. But everything had changed. Order and options and—and he didn't know.

And the obliviousness was dark and powerful and pierced him like no bullet could. He wasn't strong enough to deal with this!

He wondered dismally if a god would be able to. He wondered if Feliciano would be more comfortable if there was a god on one of those thrones that he could trust. He wondered if he had ever  _not_  been a selfish ass.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Passed MEPS! As long as everything goes right, I get shipped to basic on the 3rd of October. So, if this isn't finished by the 2nd, then, well, y'all know the drill._

_Shout-out to **maryranstadler1** on FFNET because she is just so sweet and supportive. She is one of our veterans, having been around since 2013, and writes for mainly GerIta. Her fic 'Rules For Dating My Brother' is silly and sweet, and I suggest you guys go check it out!_

COMMENT! Who's ready to see Arthur's badassery? I wanted to fit it into this chapter but didn't have room with all that character shit.


	28. Vingt-Huit

"Don't apologize, idiot, it'll wash out," Lovino said with an empty roll of his eyes.

Feliciano giggled, swiping at his nose. "It's just so gross!" he giggle-cried.

"We're men, Feliciano. I'll clean it with mud and dry it with the blood of my enemies. Don't worry about it."

The boy nodded, sobering a smudge as he sniffled and recollected himself. "You're right."

"Always."

"Oh, shush." Lovino just offered a tick of a smile, leaning back on his hands. Feliciano didn't offer one back. "Do you really think that?"

"Think what?"

"That I don't think for myself."

Lovino blinked, furrowing his brows. "What?"

Feliciano shook his head. "Nothing. Just—Well when—You hurt my feelings earlier."

Lovino sighed. Leave it to Feliciano to get butt hurt when the conversation wasn't even pointed at him. "No, obviously not. I was just mad."

Feliciano nodded. "You're mad a lot, you know?"

Yeah, he knew. Fuck. "I'm—I'm working on it." Never had he heard something so pathetic. He could travel every inch of the string and still hold the award for worst excuse of the year. Because that's what it was, wasn't it? An excuse. He couldn't control his anger, so he just told himself that he was working on it. And now he was telling someone else, too. Someone who had  _finally_  broken through and given him a piece of honesty (in English) and here he was lying to him.

But he couldn't bring himself to tell the truth.

What if Feliciano saw what he truly was? A monster in some mirror who told point-blank lies in moments of vulnerability.

He shook his head. Fuck, he really needed to stop sounding like some angsty teen on Myspace.

"I'm proud of you!" Feliciano cooed. Lovino's heart fell.

 _You shouldn't be_.

Lovino cleared his throat and stood up, dusting off his pants. His body was sore from the beat down, but he would survive. "Hey, so when's the last time you checked on the lizard-thing?"

"A long time. Ludwig said to stop going because it might start depending on me and never venture out to find it's family."

Fucking Ludwig. "Well fuck him, what does he know?" Lovino asked, offering his hand.

Feliciano took it with a light chuckle. "It's good advice."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. But, you know, if it is still there it's likely already dependent on you. And you would be  _so_  mean if you just abandoned it after bonding with it. You know, if it sticks around long enough, we might even take it back with us when we leave."

Feliciano practically bounded to his feet. "What! Really? Are you being serious, Lovino? You know, this is a promise you can't go back on. I won't let you!"

Lovino laughed. "We'll get a box and some towels from the showering ward and smuggle it back with us." He made a hook with his finger, closing one eye with a sneer. "Time pirates."

Feliciano glowed with a smile and a laugh. He quickly tore forward, leaving Lovino to follow.

Lovino let the character and smile drop with a sigh. Shoving his hands in his pockets he started after the boy slowly. At least Feliciano was distracted.

After a while Feliciano had fallen back and took to walking next to Lovino. "Are you sure you know where we're going?" Lovino asked. He didn't recognize anything.

"I thought we'd take another route."

"Have you ever gone this route before?"

A pause. "Do you want the truth or a lie?"

"Bastard," Lovino groaned, hanging his head.

Feliciano giggled. "Don't worry, we won't get too lost. And if we do I'm sure Ludwig and Gilbert will track us down."

" _Hooray_."

"And how do you ever discover anything new if you don't get lost first?"

Lovino pushed away the finger Feliciano had shoved in his face. "Whatever, Tumblr."

Feliciano brushed off the comment, turning to walk backwards. Lovino kept an eye over his shoulder, worried the kid was going to get impaled by a low hanging branch before long. "Hey, Lovi, so I was thinking—"

"Did it hurt?"

"What?"

"Nothing, nevermind, what was it you were saying? And turn the fuck around before you die."

Feliciano scrunched up his face in a melodramatic pout before continuing. "What are we going to do when we get back? It's just that so much has changed. Do you plan on going back to the truck?"

Lovino hummed. "I dunno. I've never really considered it. I don't even know if they'll let me leave."

"Arthur said that once you got control over your powers you would have the option to."

Lovino almost laughed. "Yeah, well, that's not going great."

"Arthur says you're doing really well!"

"Remind me to thank him for lying in my favor."

Feliciano pushed him lightly. "Oh, shut it. I saw you earlier! How did you even  _do_  that, Lovi? One second you're in the dirt, the next you have a sword!" Lovino blinked. That was right, Feliciano had never seen him use his powers before, had he? Well, aside from—achem, doors not to be opened; fuck a duck and run.

"Yeah, well if you missed it my exercise was to  _not_  have a sword. So, I failed."

Feliciano shrugged. "Yeah, but you were able to control yourself enough to not use it."

Lovino shook his head. And to think someone gave this kid a fake police badge and real files. "Almost never got anyone anywhere, Fell, now  _turn around_."

Feliciano turned with a slight huff, walking enough in front of Lovino that the older of the two had to strain to hear him. "You should still plan for something. Just in case you get something right." Ouch. But Feliciano was turning back around again before Lovino had time to say anything. "Hey, can you show me that thing again? The sword."

"I—No, it only comes when I'm really angry.  _Don't_  look at me like that, Feliciano."

"Like what?"

"Like you plan to get me mad. It's not going to work. I will turn around and go back to base without you."

"Fine," Feliciano drew, puffing up his cheeks. Suddenly, the air came out in a yell as he tumbled backwards. Lovino's heart palpitated and he quickly reached forward, grasping the kid's wrist before he tumbled off the cliff they found themselves at. Lovino pulled him back to safety.

"Idiot!" Lovino practically yelled, putting a hand to his forehead.

Feliciano laughed. "Oh, wow, okay," he stammered, making his way back to the edge to stare over the side. "Wow, Lovi, that's pretty steep."

" _Walk forwards_."

"I wonder what all is done there. It looks like we could just walk across the tree tops, doesn't it, Lovi? I wonder if we could."

Lovino sighed, coming over to look. "Yeah, go ahead if you want to fall and break something." But, the kid was right. An almost glass surface of treetops stretched out in front of them, taller trees sticking out, making it almost look like a regular walkway.

"Wanna climb down? See what's down there?"

"Probably exactly what's up here."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Left it in the truck, sorry—What are you doing?"

"Come if you want. If not, I'll see you at lunch!"

Lovino groaned.

The dirt crumbled away under Lovino's nails, the loose grass and vines a dangerous way to make it down. Lovino grunted as he hit the ground. Feliciano was swiping at the dirt on his clothes. "Isn't it weird that they call  _every_ meal lunch? Just woke up? Go get some lunch! Done training? Lunch time! It's so weird. No breakfast, dinner, whatever-old-people-call-dinner."

"Supper?"

"Yeah, that one. Why can't we have supper here, Lovi?"

Lovino chuckled. "You look so offended that no one has offered you supper."

"I'm just  _saying_."

Lovino took to the scenery, away from the silly companion he had somehow been stuck with. The strange hue of the world here, under the glass green overcast, was royal, emerald. Lovino blinked, taking in purple crystals that grew along the bases of the trees. Long icicle like crystals added to the color their own orange light. As they walked forward, Lovino caught the sight of a small, caterpillar-like creature curling around an orange stake until it was so strung out that its dark body disappeared and became orange itself.

"I wish I brought my sketch book here," Feliciano said lowly. "There's so much I'm sure not to remember when we get back." He timidly reached up to touch a crystal, but stopped less than an inch away, satisfied to admire.

Lovino crouched down to admire the purple stones. Squinting he saw a similar bug stretch itself blue. He blinked. Weird. "Let's keep going," Lovino said, standing.

The two walked on until the sound of trickling water deterred them from their path. "Sounds like a stream, Lovi!" Feliciano said, quick to follow it. It wasn't long until they found it. A chattering squirrel took flight as they broke into the clearing.

"Looks like it's flowing the wrong way," Lovino observed, pointing. "We just came down from a cliff that way, and it's flowing that way."

"It's cold!"

" _Don't put your hands in it!_ " Feliciano just laughed. Lovino grumbled. "Idiot—Hey! Don't splash me!"

"Are you getting angry? Gonna walk back to base without me."

"And the moment I get there I'm going to find a new friend."

"Oh,  _finally_. I've been wondering when you'd stop following me around." Feliciano giggled, standing up with a coy grin. "We've made it to the Northern Lights by now, yeah?"

Lovino gave him a blank glare. "You just reference Brother Bear, didn't you."

"So you were watching!"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, only the first twenty times you made me sit through it."

"What about the second twenty times?"

"Zoned out."

"Shut up! It's a classic!"

"Whatever, Kenai."

Feliciano chuckled. "A bit truer now, huh? Have you found anything out about this whole Golden Mean thing?"

"Not a fucking thing."

"I guess we're supposed to figure it out on our own then." The younger of the two decided with a determined nod of his head. "Don't worry, our resources are flawless. It's Hercules meets Brother Bear!"

"Hercules meets Brother Bear?" Lovino echoed dubiously.

"Obviously! Well, I mean, it's different, of course; you're not fighting to become a real god or anything and I'm not  _actually_  a bear—" he giggled at some joke he failed to share—"but I think the messages are there!"

Lovino quirked a brow, ignoring the twisted feeling in his gut. "Oh yeah? So,  _you_  should run off to the wilderness and  _I_ should sell out?"

"Sell out?"

"You know, how Hercules sold out. With the merchandise and the posing for pictures and the public appearances. He was a glorified sportsman. Unless, of course, you're talking about the  _classic_  story in which he murdered the fuck out of his wife and children."

"Lovino?"

"Hmm?"

"Why must you ruin everything that is pure and good?"

"It's my nature, lover boy."

* * *

The two of them had been able to find their way around the cliff. Finally, they were finding  _something_  of familiar territory.

"What do you mean?" Feliciano asked, his breaths shallow as they practically clawed their way up the third or fifth hill.

"You asked what I wanted to do when I get out of here. You never said what you wanted to do."

"Oh." Something told Lovino that their truth-talk had passed—mostly the fact that Feliciano had turned to talking about Disney movies for the past half hour—but, still, the longer they walked the more Lovino's head reeled. This distraction was great. It took away his anxieties of the current situation they found themselves in and replaced it with something almost serene. They were sitting in Feliciano's car on the way to something the kid had found on Google Maps. Lovino was making crude jokes about customers in the back, Feliciano was defending them with nice comments. They were talking about their future, leaning against someone's car because once they jumped in they wouldn't see each other until whenever fucking Feliciano decided another adventure needed to ensue.

And as always, Feliciano had a better idea than Lovino.

"I—Well—I want to do something with the knowledge I have," he shared as Lovino helped him to the top.

"Like  _Gilbert_ something with the information, or like draw something?"

"I would like to draw!" He almost sounded defensive. "But, no. I—I think—" he giggled, an embarrassed hand finding the back of his head. "Oh, I don't know, I was thinking of maybe going to Med school."

Lovino blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. "Med school? I—No offence, but I don't really see you the studious type."

"Second chances exist, Lovino. I got one. And—well, there may be consequences, but—I don't know."

Lovino sighed. "You want to use your second chance to give someone else one?"

"It sounds silly, I know. But—" he shrugged, "there's no grand scheme. Freak accidents are actually accidental. Well, at least they kinda are. And—Well—I don't know. It's just something I've been thinking about." He looked at Lovino almost worried, as if Lovino would disprove of his plan. Lovino just offered him a small smile because he wasn't sure what to say.

Feliciano, a doctor? He almost took up religion right then to pray for the poor souls on his operating table.

Honest eyes, though, bore into him. He chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds great."

The kid didn't grin or light up like he expected him to. His embarrassed, questioning smile just went soft. Before it bounded ahead. "And don't worry!" he called behind his shoulder with a light laugh. "You can help me with all my homework!"

"What? I didn't agree to that!  _I'm_ not becoming a god damn doctor!"

* * *

Lovino crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes finding the corner of the room rather than the one he addressed. He liked to believe that it was out of anger, not shame, but it didn't matter. No one asked. "I'm sorry,  _okay_?" he finally spat, cutting off his dance of words that had come to it. "Just—I want to learn how to control my powers, and if you can help me," he let off a deep sigh and finally looked at the tall blond. Pursed lips and humorless eyes. Another sigh. "I need your help and I won't let it happen again."

He stood in the common area. He and Feliciano had returned a bit later, and the boy had gone up to bed. Lovino would have followed suit, but he was positive his head wasn't going to let him sleep for the next decade. He was silently positive that he knew Feliciano's wouldn't let him, either, but he wasn't going to say anything right away. Fuck, he really wasn't good at this. He almost wanted to tell Feliciano to go to someone else—Arthur or Ludwig or a  _therapist_ —but he couldn't muster a single word on the subject once it seemed to pass. He felt like an idiot for letting it pass, damn it. Fuck. Ugh.

Ludwig stared up at him with a frown. Gilbert was nowhere to be seen. Finally, he let out a long breath, moving slightly in his chair, light shuffles breaking into the murmurs of the area. "Fine. I'll accept your apology."

Lovino nodded. Should he thank him or walk away? Thanking him didn't exactly sit right, but also the thought of  _not_  thanking him seemed rude. Fuck, where did that come from? He should just walk away for sure.

Ludwig stood up, stretching one of his arms. "We start now."

Lovino blinked. "What?"

"We will start with conditioning. Your stance is a mess, but so is absolutely everything else. Your punches are weak, your balance is the worst thing I've ever seen, and your stamina is horrendous."

 _Be nice be nice be nice be nice_.

"We'll start with a running warm-up and move to a strength workout. We'll break for lunch followed by an intensive balance and core strength workout. You have fifteen to hydrate and get anything to eat—but do eat light. Meet me at the Sparring Pits."

And just like that he was walking away. Lovino hung his head when he disappeared. "What the fuck have I gotten myself into?"

* * *

Hell. He had gotten himself into hell. How could an arm workout cause the muscles in his face to twitch! And who the fuck decided that running should be a thing that people did outside of life-or-death situations? He was sweaty and miserable, and wanted nothing more that to lie in the dirt and never get up. Still, he pushed on with his teeth attached to his tongue, because he wasn't going to fucking whine or say he couldn't do something. He was going to get stronger, and he was going to learn how to control his god damn fucking powers.

Not only that but working out was the distraction of the centuries.

The two had eaten lunch without Gilbert and Feliciano. "Where are they?" Lovino asked, ignoring how his limbs shook as he grabbed his tray.

"I don't know," Ludwig answered robotically. The two sat down.

Lovino found that he wasn't hungry. It was strange; one would think that right after a workout they would be starving. Able to inhale the whole lunch line. But, no. He sat here, pushing around the food on his plate with a sigh.

"Good work today," Ludwig said. Lovino looked up. The tall blond seemed to be forcing himself to eat as well, slow and small portions. Lovino had seen him eat a plate and a half of potato-based foods, so he had to wonder whether the hunger would come on later. "I expected a lot more backlash."

Lovino offered a quaint nod. He wasn't really in the mood to talk. Head too hazy, body to jittery. "Yeah, well I told you, I won't let that happen again."

They finished and disregarded their plates. Ludwig stopped at the exit to the base, playing with his watch.

"Are we going somewhere?" Lovino asked, a bit timid. He really wasn't looking forward to another battle with a Neverborn. Who even was next?

"Yes. If you feel you're going to pass out, tell me. If not, just follow orders."

In a blink, the two of them were standing in what Lovino could only describe as the inside of a volcano. Hot orange and black magma rolled over itself, bubbling and slow. Lovino swallowed. The heat spell caused his shaking muscles to only intensify, the dryness drawing the skin over his body taut. He wondered if the floating embers, pukes out by peeling bubbles, would burn him or his clothing.

They stood on what looked like a floating platform above it all. The lighting from below warped everything's perception. Other platforms surrounded them, a long lip running jaggedly off the wall of their oval dome. Above them the sky was pitch black by a looming overcast.

Ludwig nodded his head to him. "Now, pay attention to me."

Lovino nodded, and their workout began.

* * *

"Good, now you can relax," Ludwig said, his breaths as winded as Lovino felt. He blinked slowly, cursing away the faint spell that threatened to control him. He flattened from the side-plank he had been forced to hold for  _years_ , panting into the black dust of fallen embers. Ludwig rose to his knees. He pulled out something from his back pocket. Gloves. He quickly pulled them on.

Lovino slowly picked himself up. He was dizzy, and shaky, but he also wasn't going to back down from the implications of this. Ludwig looked up at him, eyes silver in the lighting. "Are you ready." Lovino swallowed, nodding. He rose to his feet, filling his lungs as deeply as he could. It caused his head to spin, but he ignored it. "Get into stance."

His whole body was stretched thanks to Ludwig's glorified yoga course, so he fell a little deeper into the stance than he meant to. Ludwig quickly corrected him. Lovino followed every direction to the best of his abilities.

Clenching his teeth, Lovino managed to focus on Ludwig's figure in front of him. Ludwig nodded. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Block."

And Lovino was on the ground.

"Stand."

He was on the ground again. Why didn't Ludwig go slower? Lovino spit, blood pooling beneath him. The heat and the shaking—no, he would control his powers.

"Stand." A deep breath. "Do not focus on the limb you  _think_  I'm going to move. Focus on me as a whole and react without thinking about it." Wasn't Lovino's whole problem that he acted without thinking? Still, he didn't argue. He nodded. "Block."

He was, once again, fallen and coughing into the volcanic ash. Combat boots were in front of Lovino's nose. "What do you think the issue it?"

"You're going too fast," Lovino coughed, pushing himself up before falling shakily to his hands. Growling he pushed to his feet.

"Arthur told me that you are quick. I will not adjust my speed."

"I'm quick at  _running away_ ," Lovino groaned. "This is different."

"You're not taking it seriously."

Not taking it seriously! "Yes, I am! I'm doing my best!"

"Then you would have been able to block by now. Get into your stance."

Lovino grit his teeth. Had this all been a mistake? Ludwig obviously didn't understand what he was doing! Lovino wasn't just going to pick this up as if he had been doing it his whole life! He wasn't out of Star Wars the Last fucking Jedi,  _sorry_!

He was in his stance for a long time before Ludwig broke the silence. "You're holding yourself back." Lovino shook his head. What did that even mean? Just because he was bad at something didn't mean that suddenly it meant that it was because he was out to get himself. Obviously, it didn't. "Our goal here it to get you stronger and to let you control your powers. You're not going about it right. You're suppressing your powers, but by doing so you're slowing yourself down and overthinking everything."

"What else am I supposed to do?" Lovino asked, his tone almost even desperate. It was too hot, his head too dizzy. "I get angry and suddenly I have a weapon!"

"Then that's what you need to beat."

"I've already  _beaten_  anger. Khorne—I defeated him!"

Ludwig nodded. "Gilbert was saying that Arthur was taking you to fight them."

"Yeah, and I already beat one, okay? I battled anger and I won!"

"You defeating a Neverborn doesn't mean that you've worked out your own problems. If you can't fight me because you keep getting so angry that you either have to shut down or lash out, then you need to go back and reassess what it means to defeat anger."

"But how! How do I fucking beat a god damn feeling!" His stance was breaking, taking a deep breath he tried to work his way back into it.

Ludwig sighed. A flash of light and the heat peeled away. Lovino fell to the dirt of the sparring area, panting and blinking past the darkness that clouded his vision.

"Come on, let's get some water."

* * *

Lovino sighed, staring at the forever sky above him. His bed was stiff, a bit uncomfortable, but he would survive, and it was better than another lap around the sparring area. His frown hurt his face, but he couldn't lift it.

He had to go back and defeat anger again? Only this time it seemed it was a personal matter.

His hands were laced behind his head. The room had too much empty space, it felt intrusive. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to sleep. Instead, acid. Familiar and burning, floating around his heart like a shall. He was doing everything wrong! He beat Khorne, but he still hadn't won! He couldn't even block a simple move from Ludwig. He wasn't able to actually comfort his friend or even began to know how. People looked at him like he wasn't a person and it's because he was ridiculous. He lashed out at anyone that told him something he didn't want to hear and couldn't even bring himself to respect  _literal gods_.

Rolling over to his side he stared at the wall. Because Lovino's room was in the center of the base somewhere, all his walls were, in fact, walls. Long and white and intrusive and empty. He crossed his arms.

He needed to get some sleep.

* * *

Once again, he was baffled by the passing of time—or lack thereof despite his muscles' soreness having dripped off the plain of existence. After eating he made his way outside.

He was going to do better today—or, er, now. His head swirled with things that he had to do, focus on, accomplish. A twinge in his chest was only the beginning of what he knew to be the consequence if he failed.

"Morning, Lovi!" Feliciano called.

"Pay attention," Ludwig sighed.

Gilbert grinned up at him. He was leaning back in the dirt, his feet crossed. "Mornin' sunshine. Ready to fulfill our deal?"

"He won't be able to," Arthur said. He had been sitting under the trees shade, the sun harsh today. Without effort he stood. "Today he works with me."

"Awe, c'mon, Artie."

"Don't call me that."

Lovino frowned. He had really hoped to fight Ludwig again. "Whatever. What are we doing?"

"We're going to work on summoning each of your powers separately, and on command. Knowing how to summon may teach you how to suppress better."

Lovino nodded. "Okay, that makes sense."

"And then, to put what you've learned to the test, you will fight me."

He could have laughed. "I'm going to fight  _you_?"

Arthur smiled, green eyes catching the sun. "I'm sure you'll do great."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Okay, so we were going to play with Arthur this chapter because my original plan was just to skip to Ludwig and go from there, but then silly me decided to offer a little more time with the protagonist and love interest since we have very little of that, and I really don't want the romance to come off as forced later, y'know? (Note the word later. They are in the transition stage between friends and more than friends.) So, we have to push back the cool stuff for next chapter. Sorrie._

_Okay, Guest commenters, there's more than one of you now, so if you guys could decide on nicknames for yourselves instead of "Guest" that would help this segment!_

_Guest comment 08-27-18 (The one that has reviewed before)_

_This pairing is a fun one to rip apart, I must admit. And, like, you get three genres with this pairing: sad, smut, and 2p. I really hope my efforts here spark a new one: slow burn._

_Don't be sorry, babe! You're perfectly alright. In good time you will be able to relax and feel a bit more confident, you know? Don't force yourself into anything *less-than-three*_

_I'll have to listen to it! Thanks! (Also, yaaasss, let's go see it together!)_

_Guest comment 08-27-18 (Hi, new friend!)_

_I do love it when silent readers become articulated ones_


	29. Vingt-Neuf

"Focus on your anger." Lovino nodded, his eyes closed. He stood in what was becoming a comfortable position. "Take a deep breath, Lovino, and I want you to summon your first weapon." His first weapon—nothing more than a dismal looking stick. He imagined it, tried to picture it in his palm, but found difficultly making anything happen. He tried to focus on his anger, tried to focus on the fact that his inability to focus on his anger frustrated the hell out of him, but every time he got close to anything of his power his gut would churn and he would turn back. Arthur sighed. "Open your eyes. What's the issue, here? This power should be the easiest for you to summon."

Lovino shrugged. "I'm not getting angry, I guess." That was progress, right?

"I'm not asking you to  _become_  angry, Lovino. I'm asking you to focus on that part of your power. This is the issue. You let your actual emotions control what happens. You need to figure out how the different energies work and feel, and only then will you be able to control them."

"How the fuck do you focus on anger without being angry?"

"You're focusing too much on converting your energy into emotion. What happens when you get angry."

"I don't fucking know. I want to hit shit. Happy?"

"When people become angry or frustrated often times their reflexes encage and they are able to focus on short-term happenings around them. This is because anger is a defense mechanism."

"No, my defense mechanism is a shield, and it fucking hurts."

"We're not talking about that. We're talking about encaging your body and mind like anger does, only without allowing your actual emotions to stifle your control. Close your eyes again. Good. Now, focus on your body as a whole. Slowly encage your muscles, one at a time, starting from the muscles in your feet and ending with those in your face. Slower. Don't forget to breath. Good. Tell me how you feet."

"Ridiculous. Seriously, I don't remember signing up to be a fucking yogi when I got here."

"You didn't sign up to be here at all."

Touché. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he strengthened his position with his outhale. He needed to focus. Encage the mind and the body? Was he not doing that all the time? How did one encage the mind? He tried to try and focus on the noises around him. The airless heat and blinding light separated from him by eyelids. He noted the sweat creeping down his skin, the way his nose dried the more he breathed; cold. While he did this, he tensed the muscles he was able to in his upright position, bending a bit more in his knees, strengthening his core, screwing his eyes closed so tight he had to release in for fear of a headache.

Swirling, dark, familiar; it started in the pit of his stomach. Gritting his teeth Lovino focused on it. It grew smaller. Quickly he reassessed his focus back to his surroundings. Noises and heat and sun, and in the back of his mind, his hand, beckoning a plain sword.

He opened his eyes when he felt a weight solidify in his hand.

"Brilliant!" Arthur smiled at him with a slight nod. "No get rid of it and do it again."

* * *

"We've done this at least a hundred times," Lovino groaned.

"It's been over two hundred, actually. You will not leave here until you have flawlessly summoned your first weapon of anger at least a thousand times flawlessly."

Lovino groaned.

* * *

"Did you get a good night's sleep?" Lovino asked as he and Feliciano made their way back to the sparring area from lunch.

"Yeah, I had a really weird dream that your laptop had an ice-maker in it and for some reason we were making smoothies, but when you used the ice-maker it totally shattered your screen."

"You should really patent that idea before someone else gets ahold of it."

"What about you?"

"I don't know if I really want to put my name on the first laptop ice-maker, but I'll support you."

"No!" Feliciano giggled with a wide shake of his head. "How did you  _sleep_?"

"Oh, uh, fine. No crazy dreams or anything."

"Feliciano!" Ludwig.

"Well, gotta go!" Feliciano chirped, holding up some stupid sign. Lovino rolled his eyes.

"Beat him up for me!"

"Of course! Gilbert gave me a map of all his weaknesses.  _He shall fall_!"

Lovino shook his head. Gods forbid that kid ever get his hands on actual power. He was humorously wondering what his friend would do with his powers—promptly deciding that he would destroy everything—when Arthur made his own way in from lunch. "Are you ready?"

Lovino nodded his head. The two made their way back through the trees to the secluded area that they were practicing in earlier.

"We're going to be working on your first weapon of life, now."

"What?" Lovino asked. "I don't have any powers of life."

"Your shield. It comes from the part of your powers that focuses on life. This includes a wide array of things: pain, lust, excess, pleasure. It is actually quite powerful against your powers of anger which, when controlled by your emotions, focuses on bloodlust and death, so it's no surprise that it was the first line of defense you discovered against Khorne."

"But I wasn't strong enough."

"Not for Khorne, no."

"Okay, so, what do I focus on to bring out my shield?"

"You focus on yourself. You must understand how you're feeling physically. When you're in pain, your nerves send a signal to your brain so that you may be able to fix the problem and protect your essence. In a similar manner, to call to the weapons of life you must be able to focus on what needs to be protected."

"But, I'm not in pain right now. I don't have anything to protect or fix."

"Just the awareness of  _something_  to protect can be enough."

Lovino hummed. So, what, like keeping up with medication instead of just taking it when one's in pain? "Alright, let's try it, I guess."

Position and focus. He wasn't sure if he should be encaging his muscles or not, so he let them relax. Lovino attempted to find an ailment, phantom sores from his time with Ludwig, but he couldn't grasp anything. He was progressively getting emptier. "I don't think it's working," Lovino groaned.

"Try to focus on a want to protect yourself."

He tried. Nothing. "Seriously, if you just stab me or something we would be able to move this right along."

"Focus on something else, then. Something you want to protect. A family member or a friend."

Lovino sighed. Something that he would protect? He didn't even want to protect himself, what the fuck made Arthur think that he had the capacity to want to protect something else? He was a selfish bastard. There was no way there was something he valued above himself.

Nothing.

"Brilliant!" Arthur met him with another small smile. "What were you thinking of."

"Uh—er—my—uh—laptop. Feliciano threatened to shatter it at lunch and it—aha—it cost me, like, five hundred bucks and so, uh, yeah—don't want that to happen. Oh, wow, isn't this a cool shield! Looks different in the light!"

His heart pounded as he lifted it to show. The sun glinted from it's ebony surface, the handle wrapping around his knuckles less like a handle and more like a vine.

"It does look different." Arthur observed slowly, taking a look at it. "The shield you used before must have been exclusive to your pain. Does it feel different?"

Lovino noted that he wasn't  _dying_. Still, there was a familiar tint of helplessness that came along with this feeling that now surrounding his chest, pressing down. "Yeah, a little," Lovino admitted quietly. "Before it made the slash on my side feel like it was everywhere and like my whole body was on fire. But now it's as if I can't breathe."

"Interesting. Get rid of it and recall it."

Lovino groaned, letting the feeling drop and the shield dissipate. "Another thousand?"

"Yes. Whine about it and we'll do a thousand with the pain shield, too."

By the time Lovino had done his rounds, Feliciano's laugh and smile and random rambles and sarcastic, empty eye rolls were burned into his memory; his eyelids and thoughts. Even when the last shield dropped he found a tension in his chest that he couldn't dispel.

Fucking-A.

* * *

"Hey, Arthur," Lovino muttered as they walked. He had his hands laced behind his head and stared upwards.

"Yes?"

"So, there's multiple weapons for each power?"

"Yes."

"What about for the Neverborns?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, every time I fought Khorne he used that big axe thing against me. But the last time I fought him he had something else. It was a chain, at first, but then it wasn't."

Arthur nodded pensively. "Yes, I was wondering myself what had happened there. I never saw a chain."

"Not at all?"

"I thought you had fallen and that you were trying to summon your shield again."

"So how do I summon that, then? The chains."

Arthur shook his head. "Something like that isn't a power of anger. Khorne should have never been able to possess such a skill. You're saying you thought you were attacked by chains?"

"Wrapped up. I couldn't move."

The British man took a long moment to think. "No. That—It's a form of manipulation. Not of anger. That—" he cut himself off. "Khorne wouldn't be able to control something like that."

"What are you saying?"

Arthur blinked, as if he had forgotten Lovino entirely. "What? Nothing. Don't worry about it. But it's good that you were able to see through it. You adapt quickly."

Lovino frowned.

* * *

"Are you asking hypothetically, or are you hinting that it actually happened?"

Lovino tensed his jaw; quick decisions. "What are you even talking about?" he asked the albino blond with a forced roll of his eyes. "Neither. I'm just asking to see if the plot of Hercules would hold up—not the cool version. Disney."

"Oh," Gilbert hummed, bobbing his head a little bit as he thought. "Yeah, no, no way. First off, there's no serum that could drain a god of their godliness—cyanide won't work, either—uhm—but, also, I've never heard of a part god becoming full god. Pretty sure it's strictly impossible."

Lovino nodded. Impossible. But, then,  _why_? Quickly he shook the thought from his head. "Exactly what I told Feliciano. Kid wouldn't listen."

Gilbert laughed. "I'll tell him."

"Uh—No—Don't bother. He's a stubborn ass. Probably forgot the whole conversation on the basis that he was right or something. Bastard."

Gilbert quickly perked up and looked around. "Where's Art?"

Lovino groaned. "No fucking clue. He said to take a break ten years ago."

"Yeah, he gets side tracked a lot. So, how much money you putting on the line?"

"Depends, am I allowed to use my powers?"

The albino smirked. "Only if I'm allowed to use mine."

Lovino set him a scrupulous stare, quirking a brow. The blond's mischievous grin only deepened. "Fucking deal."

"What are you two grinning about," Ludwig accused from the sparring pit he was in.

Gilbert laughed. "Why are you watching us!"

Feliciano said something, but Lovino didn't hear it. Ludwig responded with a shake of his head.

"Over protective little brother?"

"He probably thinks we're scheming to take over the universe."

Lovino smirked. "You know, that was actually my next question."

"Good! We're on the same page then."

Unfortunately, before the two of them could discuss the logistics of their new ambitions, Arthur returned. He looked a bit disheveled, but quickly recollected himself as he stepped into the clearing.

"Sorry about the wait. Are you ready to go, Lovino?"

Lovino grunted a quick "Yeah" as he stood up. Gilbert whined, throwing his head back with a deep pout.

"C'mon, Artie, you're taking away my entertainment."

"Is that all I am to you?"

"Sorry, babe."

The brunet feigned a hurt look, shaking his head. "And here I thought there was more between us. The pages and the cyanide—what about the cyanide? Did you even  _try_  putting it in a bowl of sugar and offering them berries?"

" _What_?" Arthur demanded, mouth slightly agape as he fixed each of them with a serious gaze.

Gilbert's hissing laughter was annoying, but Lovino actually kind of enjoyed the bastard's company. He rolled his eyes with a light laugh of his own. "Nothing. Alright, let's get this over with."

"You should not be going into any part of this training with the attitude of  _Let's get this over with_."

They made it back to their seclusion. Lovino took a deep breath.

"You have discovered two different weapons of despair." Arthur said. "The sword and the mirrors."

"Which one are we doing first?"

"The sword. Now, to summon—"

Lovino just nodded, drowning him out as he got into position, allowing a heaviness to swirl and form. The British man cut himself off. Lovino clicked his tongue. "No  _brilliant_?"

"You've been practicing?"

Lovino frowned. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? The longer the sword was in his hand the less he felt—well, the less he  _felt_. He clenched his jaw. The mirrors always brought on waves of thoughts and hopelessness, but this didn't seem to be playing that game. He wasn't sure if the push back was relief or anxiety. He let the weapon drop. "The mirrors, what do they do?"

"They reflect on the person that they're summoned against."

"But is there any foundation to what is seen. What—Is it right?"

"Foundation, yes, but I'm not positive I understand what you mean by it being right."

"I—I beat Khorne with it. How? What did he see?"

"He would see the worst of himself. Neverborns are so one-minded that when they're pitted against one another, it would make sense that it would be a battle of strength. However, despair and ambition are different. They play on the mind. Anger was forced to reflect on himself. The worst of himself. What that means in terms of Khorne would likely be the feeling of being powerless—in comparison to what he was outside of the Neverworld."

"But—But it's not real?"

"It is. Every fear has grounding somewhere. Khorne has lost his power."

And Lovino couldn't control his own. "Does the image ever change? Is it possible to fix it? To—To—"

"I don't know."

There was a long pause between them. Lovino stared at the ground, his thoughts rearing and circling and dipping and trying to figure something out. Anything out! What if he could never control himself? What if he became the monster in the mirror?

"Are you ready to continue or would you like to take a break?"

Lovino snapped his head up. Arthur's features were set with a deep frown and curious gaze. Lovino glared back at it. "As if I'm going to let you run off again. I don't have a century to waste."

* * *

Their work with the mirrors was taking much longer than anything else. Slightly on the basis that there were  _two_  weapons to play with, but mostly because Lovino couldn't get through the round of either of them without the mental exhaustion neither anger nor life had presented him with. Arthur walked him through how to summon the weapons without playing on his emotions, but the two of them quickly discovered that this was nothing like the other two. Always, to some capacity, the two weapons attached themselves to Lovino's conscious and mind. Draining or filling, it didn't matter, because the both of them were devastating.

It seemed that whatever was happening with these two wasn't an emotion at all. Lovino hadn't gone into this sad and didn't come out sad. He came out suffocated, his skull devoured by active mind games and questions and self-deprecating realities. It was messy and gross and it seemed the stronger his movements came the slower his heart wanted to beat.

"Take a break." Arthur said.

"No, it's fine, I can do this," Lovino demanded. He needed to learn how to control his powers.

"You—"

"No! I can do this." His head told him he couldn't. Told him to calm down and to just follow orders because he was being a child by refusing. By lashing out. He summoned another plate, another silver surface, another monster. "I can do this."

By the time they were through Lovino found himself on his knees, eyes closed, fingers in the dirt. Arthur was silent as he meditated, slow breaths and warring thoughts. He did it, and he stuck to that resolution until, small and forced, but never so apparent, he was able to smile.

* * *

"Seriously, did you guys do fucking gymnastics when you were younger?" Lovino demanded. Gilbert and Ludwig were taking him through some sort of warm-up stretch as they waited for Arthur.

"No, but Luddy did take ballet."

"No I didn't."

"Tutu and everything?" Feliciano teased.

"I didn't take ballet! Gilbert!"

The albino just sniggered. "Don't get all worked up, they're going to think I'm telling the truth."

"You know, now that you mention it, I can definitely see the dancer's frame," Feliciano commented with a scrupulous stare, a thumb pressing against his cheek. "Yes, yes, I see it for sure."

Ludwig groaned, rising and crossing his arms as he sent Feliciano a humorless stare. Feliciano held it, a teasing smile on his lips.

Gilbert cleared his throat. "Get a room."

"Gilbert!"

"Ludwig!"

_Where was Arthur?_

* * *

"So, we get an audience for this one?"

Arthur nodded. "Before you were just learning how to concentrate. This is going to be an exercise based on concentrating with distraction."

"Are you going to take off your ridiculous outfit?"

The lot of them stood outside the base. Lovino knew that countless workers inside could see him, but he felt pretty distanced from the facelessness of the one-way windows. The sidelines, however, held the other three. They felt a lot more real—especially since Feliciano and Gilbert were encaged in a loud conversation about—what the fuck  _were_  they talking about. Fucking Chinese food? What? However, Arthur motioned for them to quiet down . Lovino took a deep breath as Arthur got into position.

"Now, I'm not going to go easy on you."

Lovino quirked a brow. "I would hope not."

"Tell me when you're ready. I want the first weapon for you to draw to be the one of anger, and I want you to hold it as long as you can without actually getting angry. Tell me when you're ready."

Lovino nodded. With little flaw he closed his eyes and went through the familiar sensation. Glorified stick in hand, he exhaled and opened his eyes.

"Whoo! Go Lovi!" Feliciano hollered.

Lovino rolled his eyes. Great, he gained a fucking cheerleader. And, of course, the whooping was only continued by Gilbert. Fuckers.

Quickly he recollected himself and nodded, bending at his knees, focusing, ready to bound this way or that, attack or defend. Anger focused him. "I'm ready."

"Brilliant." The smirk in the British man's voice was dark, bemused. Lovino was taken slightly aback, expecting him to come forward with a hidden blade, but instead he threw out his hands, never breaking eye contact with Lovino. The sleeves of his coat filled with air, exposing the skin of the British man's wrist—as if to tease, saying  _nothing here_ —before a zapping, brilliant blue light fused around each of the blond's palms. He clapped his hands together, and when he pulled them apart he seemed to string out a long sword, as if his palm were a sheath. The tip bubble and popped, and the British man took it through the air with surprising speed.

Gilbert whistled. "Still haven't lost that flare, have ya, Artie?"

Fuck. This wasn't going to be as easy as Lovino had thought it was going to be.

Not only that, but Arthur was a whole lot fucking faster than he looked.

Lovino grunted, his heels digging into the dirt as their weapons clashed for the first time, red hot sparks breaking between the black and blue energies. With both hands on the hilt Lovino was able to push him back, far enough to regain his stance and throw an attack of his own.

Arthur easily blocked, sliding his blade down as he stepped aside, scraping Lovino's knuckles. Lovino cried out, opening his hand. The weapon was gone before it even hit the ground.

"Don't let your guard down," Arthur demanded, his blade hovering inches from Lovino's throat. He stepped back. "Recall your weapon."

Lovino swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, but did so without question. His hand hurt, but he knew he could draw from it later. The pain was a comfort.

This time he took the first swing. It was high, and Arthur took advantage of his by blocking overhead as he brought his foot up, slamming it into Lovino's stomach. Lovino stammered backwards, gagging.

"This isn't only a battle of weapons. Don't allow unnecessary openings."

Arthur swung down, but Lovino was fast enough to block it, despite still kneeling over the pain in his gut. He slashed the offending object away.

His muscles were getting tense. His focus still caught everything, but he was growing bolder in his thoughts. The energy to his sword was getting bolder, as well, though he wasn't sure it was in a good way. He tore forward, catching Arthur's weapon with a powerful strike, bringing it back and reapplying the blow. Again and again, attempts to weaken and flatten. The sparks lit the blond's face orange, emerald eyes becoming brown. "Control your anger, Lovino!" Arthur shouted. Lovino's breaths were becoming panted. The two separated. Before Lovino could reem forward, Arthur threw out his arm. His sword snapped, elongating, becoming something of a whip.

Lovino blocked it with his sword, but the blue energy wrapped around it, tearing it from his hand. With a yell Lovino called forth another. He wasn't fast enough, the whip caught him across his chest. Lovino screamed, stepping back, away from the burning force.

The whip wrapped and flowed around Arthur, falling from his hand to circulate like a whirlpool. Another sword was in Lovino's hand. Multiple whips came out to attack as Lovino attacked. He slashed at them, his hilt firm in both hands.

Arthur blocked with his forearm, unable to conjure the energy to block for him in enough time. The heat of the swirling magic intensified, popping purple and hitting Lovino in the back. He fell with a cry.

The dirt below his hand formed, the pain stretching and intensifying across and under his skin. In his left hand he focused on forming a shield, his focus secured on keeping his sword.

He turned just in time to catch Arthur's next attack with his shield.

Arthur reassessed Lovino and his weapons. With a smirk he paused, straightened, and put out his hands, palms down. Lovino made his way to his feet, panting and drained. The pain was something he could deal with. He could. He would. He shielded his body as Arthur's hands were once again surrounded by energy, this time swirling colors rather than blue. Like before he brought them together, but instead of pulling out a sword it seemed to be a small blade, and the hand he drew it from didn't loose the color.

Before Lovino knew what was happening, said knife was flying past his ear. Followed by another and another. Lovino his behind his shield with a grunt. They hit and bounced off. Again and again, like pounding rain.

Until, suddenly, the blond was at his side, swiping his arm across his body and bringing it forward with a whip. Lovino cried as it beat across his back. Dropping his shield, he swung his sword desperately. Arthur fell out of the way, another whip taking advantage of the fallen security.

He was everywhere!

Lovino backed up with quick steps, dropping the glorified sword and replacing it with the double edge just in time to catch the next attack. The lightning fizzled, surrounding it before putting out.

Arthur jumped back, visibly tired, but nowhere near as warn out as Lovino.

He wanted to fall and take a break, but with a heavy chest and shaking limbs he expanded on anything that he could feel.

"Good!" Arthur shouted to him, the whirlpool around him never ceasing. It almost seemed to grow, as if over time it was charging, becoming more and more powerful. Could Lovino find a way to dispel someone else's magic?

Lovino ticked a pained smile at him. "You could have warned me that you were fucking magic."

Arthur just chuckled, moving to throw yet another attack. Whips, one after the other, beat forward. Lovino grit his teeth, closing his eyes and putting his head down as the power fell against his raised sword, snapping his limbs before disappearing only to be replaced by another. Lovino could feel tears spring to his eyes, his chest becoming a void the more power he put into his cracking weapon. He needed another shield, but he was surrounded!

He slashed at the air, cutting off the newest school of lightning tails. A deafening crack sounded, followed by the shattering of his sword. He drew on the ailments of his body, drawing them so powerful that he found himself taking a knee, his hands in the dirt. He needed a shield!

Only, instead of forming in his palm, the energy he focused on created a radius around him, forming upward and creating a dome. The grass around him withered and died, his heart slowed with deafening thuds.

He couldn't see out of his creations, but he could  _feel_  everything that happened to it. Sizzling and repetitive were the attacks. They stopped for a moment, and Lovino gasped into the ground. He needed a weapon. He needed—

A great power wrapped around the dome. Lovino screamed as it burned, a great pressure getting heavier and heavier. All he could do was ball his fists around tuffs of dead grass as his shield shattered around him.

He looked up to see Arthur. Whirlpool and intimidating eyes. Weakly he stumbled to his feet. Glorified stick, it seemed all he had the energy to call.

Three steps was all he had in him before he collapsed.

The popping energy in the air dissipated, leaving it light. Lovino wasn't done yet! He still had his sword. Sure, he couldn't move, but he could fight. He wasn't going to lose another fucking battle!

Only, when he tried to lift himself up from the dirt a sharp pain seemed to shatter through him. He couldn't move, and the hilt in his hand seemed to only pulse with the anger of the fact.

"Fuck," he whined into the ground, opening his palm and letting the sword disappear.

"Great job." Arthur said above him.

"Yeah fucking right."

"I can't understand you when you're face down in the dirt."

Lovino just groaned.

Talking suddenly surrounded him as the three from the sides made their way over.

"I thought you said you weren't going to go easy on him, Art."

"Lovino, that was so cool!"

"Feliciano don't touch—"

"Bastard can't you see I'm hurt!"

"Sorry!—Hey are you crying!"

"You're only bleeding in twenty places, does that really justify tears?"

"Shut up! The lot of—Ugh, I hate you all."

"I didn't say anything."

"And yet I hate you the most."

"Be nice to Ludwig."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Fuck. I gotta get to work._

COMMENT! Yay, Lovi is finally getting somewhere!


	30. Trente

"No way!" Gilbert screamed, practically standing from his place in the dirt. Feliciano screamed something of his own. Lovino just took his arm across his forehead, wiping away the sweat, smearing the dust into mud across his skin, something of relief on his face.

Ludwig grunted as he sat up. Lovino offered his hand to the stupid blond. He took it. "Good job. You're improving quickly."

"Let's go another round, I think I won that one because you made a mistake."

The burns that had covered his body thanks to his and Arthur's fight had faded, only one scarring (if he could count on Gilbert and Feliciano to tell the truth) across his back. The others whitened and healed almost flawlessly. Still, he seemed to be making it his goal to add to his collection. He and Ludwig prepared and clashed. Lovino took to the defensive, the back of his head focusing in on his stance as, in the forefront of his thoughts, he traced Ludwig's face. The blond was great at hiding his emotions, steeled eyes and taught lips, but with time Lovino had found the ticks that gave away the little things. He was still working on his initial reactions rather than overthought moves, and it was this shortcoming that caught him as the loser more often than not, but he was getting better.

For the first time, Lovino won three times in a row. Sideline whoops filled him with a bubbling confidence. Quickly he moderated it. He didn't need to get cocky, he needed to focus on getting better; these little brawls,  _especially_  when they were stretched out to long hours and short breaks, killed both of their stamina and filled both of their moves with silly mishaps. Lovino would allow himself to smile when he was able to win, pitted against a Ludwig in full strength.

They broke for a break.

Lovino found himself wrapped in a hug. He grunted, pushing the boy away. "Seriously, Feliciano, you gotta calm it down on the affection."

"You've been saying that ever since I met you. Has it happened?"

Gilbert chuckled. "Insanity is a bitch."

Lovino just rolled his eyes.

Feliciano changed his course, giving the tall blond a hug and cooing over him about the fight. "—and I promise I didn't give him any tips. You made me pinky swear, remember?"

"I didn't make you do anything," Ludwig said with a dubious, small smile.

"Oh, well we still did and I stuck to it. I told you he would get it!'

"I'm standing right here, bastard." Lovino groaned.

Feliciano shot him a playful scrunch of his nose. "I'm not talking to you right now, Lovino."

As Lovino walked by him, heading towards base for food, he flicked the side of the kid's head, not stopping his path as he laced his hands behind his head, letting off a playful "idiot" in response.

He could practically walk the path with his eyes closed, at this point. Arthur told him to find him once he and Ludwig were done, but his stomach demanded he made a pit stop first. Gilbert's boisterous tone quickly followed him into the trees.

"Go for the back of his left knee next time."

"I told you I don't want your tricks," Lovino chuckled. "And shouldn't you be rooting for him? He is your little brother."

"I just think he could use being knocked down a peg. Don't you have any siblings?"

"Nope. Only child."

Gilbert sighed. "Lucky."

"Yup. All of mommy and daddy's love to myself," he joked, drawing out the last word.

"Cool, cool." Gilbert said with a snigger. "My parents are dead."

"Wow, okay, heavy topic much?" Lovino said, flaring his nostrils in an ugly way that he hoped would somehow disperse the awkwardness that threatened to settle.

He just snickered. "My Grandpa raised Luddy and me. He was a foot soldier, too. I think Ludwig took a lot more of his personality than I did."

"But you got his devilish good looks, right?"

Gilbert flattened his face seriously. "Lovino, you do know what albinism is, don't you?" Before Lovino could respond, feeling suddenly shunned or like his joke had gone wrong, Gilbert fell into another bout of light hearted laugher. "Seriously, you and Ludwig both need to learn to take a joke."

"Shut up, bastard." Lovino groaned, rolling his eyes defensively. "So how'd they kick the bucket," he asked, purposefully being insensitive.

"Oh, you know the drill. Go down to fight a couple vampires come up with their heads ripped off."

" _Vampires_." Lovino practically coughed.

"Well, the realistic equivalent to them. Actually, I think we just call them that because some douche in the second century BC coined to term and it stuck." He shrugged. "They're not blood suckers or anything. During the time of the Bubonic Plague they ended up being seen as—you know what, that's a history lesson for another time. Just know that if you come face-to-face with a vampire, you are much more likely to get your guts wrapped around your throat then bitten."

"That is both disturbing and comforting?"

"As is reality! The god of 'em got murdered a while back and there was this big war for a new leader. Civil war killed off the lot of them aside from a few that isolated themselves. One of these groups ended up deciding that they would rule up against humans and use  _them_  as leeway into getting in the powerhouse, but they were defeated pretty quick. My parents just happened to be casualties."

"You don't sound too sad about it."

"Death is death. Easier to accept it then push back. That's how the mess of Orpheus and Eurydice came to be. And no one has time for  _that_."

Lovino chuckled. He was familiar with the story thanks to his sophomore lit. teacher. Eurydice and Orpheus were lovers, but misfortune struck when Eurydice was bitten by a snake and killed. Orpheus, in his despair, was able to convince the gods to let him travel to the underworld and revive her. The only catch was that Orpheus would not be allowed to look at Eurydice until they made it out of the underworld. Of course, because it was a Greek tragedy, Orpheus failed and lost his love forever.

Gilbert was right. No one had time for that. Should've just left the chick dead.

Lovino and Gilbert hadn't even made it into the base before Arthur was there.

"Fuck," Lovino groaned, causually turning around, hoping to wait out the British man long enough that he could sneak in for some food.

"Lovino!" Arthur called.

Gilbert sniggered. "Daddy's calling."

"I just want to fucking eat.  _Shut up, Gilbert_."

"You walk yourself into these things."

"Lovino, are you ready to go?" Arthur asked pointedly.

"I was actually hoping I could—"

"Yeah, he's ready. So excited. Me, on the other hand, will leave you two. I think there's a plate of chicken enchiladas calling my name."

"I hope you choke," Lovino murmured under his breath. Gilbert just smirked and flipped him off when he was out of Arthur's peripheral vision.

"Follow me," Arthur said. Lovino blinked.

"Are we in a hurry?"

The slight pause brought nothing but trepidation. "No, no hurry. Just, there's some things about despair that are going to be different than anger. I want to cover a few of them."

Lovino frowned. "What are you talking about? You didn't give me any tips before I fought Khorne. You said you didn't fucking know how I was supposed to beat him. What's with the sudden change of heart?"

"Just follow me."

Once again, through the trees. Only, they didn't make it far before the British man looked around quickly. "This better work." A flash of light. Lovino found himself surrounded by rushing waters, standing on something of an island in the middle of a river. The sound was defeaning, the air cold and moist and splashing.

"What are we—"

"Listen to me, Lovino." Arthur demanded. "You're in danger. I'm trying to fix it, but there's something going on in the Order that I can't change. They want you dead, Lovino. I don't know why. You need to be more careful."

" _What_? More careful? What the fuck are you talking about? I haven't done a single fucking thing outside of god damn training! How can I be more careful when all I'm doing is following orders?"

"Bloody hell!" This was the first time Lovino had ever seen Arthur apprehensive. The spraying of the waters wet his hair, his outfit quickly becoming dogged down. Emerald eyes were set. The color sewed Lovino's lips shut. "You need to stay on your guard. Do you understand?"

No.

He didn't have the option to answer before the light was back and the two of them stood at the clearing with the Still Fall. Arthur quickly tore off his watch and threw it into the fall. It disappeared through the portal. He replaced it with another he fished from his pocket.

"What was that?"

"A favor I cashed in from Gilbert."

"What happens now? What—How are we supposed to continue from here?"

Arthur's body tensed. " _Like normal_. Drop the subject."

Drop the subject! What the fuck was this? He was—His life was—There—The Order—he shook his head, swallowing, words failing and traipsing holes in his skull, just out of reach as if he had agreed to play their little game of distress.

"I wanted to take some more time to train you and your powers, but there's an issue. Antonio is moving too quickly. He understands more than we gave him credit for."

"Is the string—"

"It's stable." There was a dramatic  _but_  left out.

"That's all? It's just stable."

"We don't have time to worry about it, Lovino. Nurgle is going to be a lot different than Khorne. He's not so repetitious. Despair is a mental power. Are you prepared?"

No! Lovino shook his head. "I'll do my best."

"Brilliant." There was no enthusiasm behind the word. "Then we'll skip the meditation today. Let's go."

* * *

The swamps of the Neverworld were never so demanding of Lovino's attention. Great overgrowth met them here, winding up and around, playing under dismally purple shadows. The mud and slush of before was now solid. Something cawed. "It looks different than before," Lovino muttered.

"It's a different part of the Neverworld. Like any other world you will find diversity here."

He blinked. "How big is this place?"

"It needed to be large enough to contain all of Chaos's creations. And all of the daemons that continued from that."

"All the—" Lovino's question was cut off by a loud moaning. It almost sounded like the whine of machinery. He continued forward, a curiosity overtaking his footsteps. Arthur's steps slowed, but he did not stop the brunet. He pushed away a large leaf with a grunt.

Before him a large, revolting creature sat in rolls of it's own skin and fat, green and unsightly. Black and oozing crustacean ran around its skin as it cried, picking and chattering with clicking movements.

Nurgle.

Lovino hesitated, looking back to Arthur. He wasn't expecting this. The Neverborn, though large, seemed almost helpless in the air its loud howls gave off. Small, beady eyes were closed, the hisdious face surrounding it tucked into rolls of a portly chin. Great disease spread across the creatures skin, a bald head green and brown in obese sickness.

Arthur nodded him along. Lovino took a deep breath, ignoring the sweet stench that attacked his senses. With Khorne all he had to do was show up and the Neverborne had been ready for a fight. Lovino had a suspicion that wouldn't be the case here.

"I—Hello—" Lovino called out, feigned sureness notching the volume of his words. The crying continued. Lovino frowned. How the fuck was he supposed to get this creature's attention when it was so busy crying. "Hello!" he tried once more. Nothing.

He made his way forward. With a slight grimace he reached out and touched the creature. It didn't seem to notice. When Lovino pulled his hand away a great film stuck to him. He gagged, wiping his hand on his pants with disgust. Working his way in front of the Neverborn, he cupped his mouth and shouted as loud as he could. "Hey, bastard, I'm trying to get your attention!"

The crying halted. Closed eyes opened. Lovino swallowed, clenching his jaw momentarily before he continued. "You—You're the Neverborn Nurgle." Was that supposed to be a question? He wasn't sure. "I've come to battle. My name is—"

Disinterested, Nurgle shut his eyes again and started up his wails; this time with more vigor. Lovino groaned, stepping around to send Arthur a frustrated throw of his hands. "He's not fucking listening to me."

"Go on."

"Fucking British bastard," Lovino growled to himself, turning back to the problem at hand. "Hey, fucking look at me! I've come to fight you! C'mon, then, pull out your weapon and fight!"

Obnoxious cries.

Before Lovino knew it he had conjured his first weapon of anger. He settled the frustration that grew around his chest, but it wasn't enough to convince himself to drop it. "Listen to me, damn it!"

The crying ceased and a great movement rippled through the sickening rolls of the beast. "Descendent!" Came a tongue filled gasp. "You live!"

Lovino stepped back, hand clasping the hilt of his sword a bit tighter—a forced comfort. "Yeah—That—Yeah, that's me, and I've come to fight you!"

"Why?"

"Because I—Well I need to—"

"You are acting through violence and do not know why?"

"I know why, damn it!" Lovino defended viciously. "Will you fight me or not!"

"Not."

" _What_?"

"Not."

"No—I didn't want a literal—I heard you, idiot—" Lovino shook his head. He was losing his bearing. He fell into stance. "Will you not fight me because you are too weak?" he demanded loudly. "Because you know you will lose?" Taunting had worked for Khorne.

"I will not act as you do." As he did? Lovino frowned. "Leave me."

"No! I—I need to fight you!"

"Why?"

Why was there a hopelessness tearing through Lovino's frustration? "Because I need to!" he screamed. Smoke twisted around his arms, supplying power to his sword. "Because you're my next—I need to learn how to—because!"

"You are growing angry."

"No fucking shit!" What was he supposed to do if Nurgle refused to fight him? Was he to act out and just attack? Something weighed down that thought, a thing of dishonor or something stupid that he was sure he had learned from a dumbass movie featuring ninjas. His jaw ached. "I need to learn how to control my powers!" he screamed. "Fighting you is supposed to help me!"

"If you cannot learn how to control your powers then fighting will only encourage aggressiveness and push back your progress."

"I—"

"I will not fight you."

"But—But I need you to! How else am I supposed to—"

"What is your end goal?"

" _What_?"

"What is your end goal?"

Lovino stepped back. Something appeared from Nurgle's great body. Black and slinking. Another figure followed. Beady eyes, black and crazed amongst the disease.

"Why are you here?"

"You only can hurt through fighting. No good will come from your efforts."

"But that is the way of chaos. That is the nature of it."

"You are angry."

"Such a temper cannot be trusted to change."

"There is a path for you and you have taken it already."

"You are chaos."

"You are a monster."

"You cause nothing but fear and hurt."

"No value can come from you."

"Best to die."

Lovino turned around. His sword had fallen amongst the blackness. He put his hands to his ears and shouted. "Shut up! Shut up!"

The voices were drilling and crude, but soft all at the same time; incisive, all at once, stabbing him with every muttering. Nothing they were saying was surprising. Lovino had considered every word a million times before! So why did they freeze his heart and still his core into emptiness?

He cut his hand outwards. The voices were already in his head, he had nothing to shield himself from them! A physical shield wouldn't work. Wouldn't save him from himself.

Nurgle was the Neverborn of despair. Lovino knew this. Lovino would win!

"You are alone."

"You cling to the thought that you can turn it around."

"A hero from the stories."

"This is no story."

"There is no end."

"You are fighting for someone else."

"Destruction—you fear it because you are a failure to your blood."

"You cannot escape it because you are your blood.'

"Failure."

"Scared."

"Monster."

"Chaos can be good!" Lovino screamed, opening his eyes; dry eyes. Dry eyes were never good. Where was his ego? Why could he not spill his sympathies? Even for himself?

"Do you not care?"

Did he not care?

"You lack empathy."

He was a child.

"You don't know what you're doing here."

He was following orders given by another.

All dry eyes could do was stare. He allowed the coldness to form. A plate. A mirror. An image he allowed to burn into his memory. Hotter than the sun, but it was empty now. The swirling blackness around him steeled and settled. Soon he was surrounded by himself.

By himself.

His head was empty, overworked, overthought, finally in agreeance with itself. Silence. The silence of the image and of the most catastrophic violence.

And then he was screaming and falling to the dirt of the sparring area.

"We do not have time for this!" Arthur screamed at him.

"Arthur, Lovino!" Feliciano cried with surprise.

"You do not have time to mess up like you did with Khorne. There is a time limit."

Lovino screwed his eyes shut, a deepset shame spreading across his limbs, warming his limbs. "I tried—I—"

"It wasn't enough!"

"Arthur!" Gilbert yelled. Lovino opened his eyes. The albino stood above him, his back turned to him, pushing away the frustrated British man. "Cut it out!"

Arthur pushed him back, letting off something between a growl and a cry. "He needs to get himself together!"

Feliciano was at Lovino's side, wrapping a hand over his shoulder with a kind, worried smile. Honey eyes searched through his own. Lovino wished that he could cry. "You're gonna be alright, Lovi," he said softly, his tone so low it was as if it were between just the two of them.

Lovino shook his head. "Where are your gloves."

Feliciano chuckled softly, but quickly cut himself off when Lovino pushed him away. Honey eyes blinked and a gentle frown replaced the warmth. Lovino looked away from him, hating the sight of the grass in front of him.

"Pushing him until he's like this isn't going to fucking accomplish anything!" Gilbert screamed, throwing a hand back to motion towards Lovino.

Fuck, his teeth hurt, too.

"He needs to learn. We can't go easy on him anymore."

"No one is going easy on him," Ludwig defended, crossing his arms over his chest, a no-nonsense stare pointed towards the British man. "He's working hard."

"He needs control."

"He needs—"

Lovino sucked in a breath through his nose as he stood. "I'm right fucking here. I'll—" he closed his eyes, fists at his side. "Let's fucking go again. Right now. I was caught off guard, okay? Let's fucking go!" Silence met his declaration; silent interest met his stare. He found comfort in the rising anger, the forced breaths. "I wasn't prepared. I am now. I—" he was rambling. He felt like he was rambling. Fuck. Gilbert quirked a brow, a stupid half-smile on his lips. Lovino ignored it, standing up as straight as he could. He allowed whatever fucking energy that was in his body to fuel into determination. "I was out numbered. I didn't expect there to be more than just the Neverborn. But now I know, and so I can better assess my powers and figure out a better plan then just yelling at him. He tricked me. I won't let it happen again." His tone was growing desperate. Was he trying to prove himself to Arthur or to himself right now?

Arthur seemed to relax with a slight of his head. "I warned you—"

"And I didn't listen. Let me try again."

Another bout of silence. Gilbert broke it with a laugh. "Out numbered you say? Well, that's not fair."

Lovino blinked. "What?"

"Sounds like you need a little help." Arthur started to say something, but Gilbert cut him off with a wide motion of his hand. "Luddy, what was it that Grandpa always said?"

"Gilbert, don't put that in your mouth it's going to kill you."

"Funny. No, he always told us to look out for each other. It sounds like Lovino here needs some assistance."

"I don't—"

"I don't know about you guys," Gilbert continued, cutting Lovino off with a smirk, "but I don't feel comfortable sending him off to be outnumbered."

Feliciano jumped to his feet. "You're right, Gil!" he said with a grin.

Ludwig just sighed. "Gilbert, you will be your own downfall."

Gilbert grinned at Arthur. "I think we've come to a consensus."

Lovino shook his head. "You—You guys are idiots."

"Takes one to know one," Gilbert teased, grabbing his shoulder and looking him in the face. His expression became serious, but it was not the same as before. His red eyes almost seemed worried. "You may be part god, but you're human enough that I trust you. Ask for help when you need it, Lovino. You'll kill yourself otherwise."

Lovino couldn't find the words to respond so he just nodded.

Feliciano was at Gilbert's side with a smile. "Cool! I get to see where you train now!"

"Don't sound so excited about it!"

"And why not?"

"Come on," Ludwig said, a small shake of his head. "Let's let Lovino rest up a bit."

"Still hungry?" Gilbert teased.

Lovino pushed him away with a roll of his eyes.

"I heard they're going to stop making the white chocolate cookies. The ones on the line are the last they'll ever offer." Gilbert said, feigning innocent thoughtfulness.

"What?" Feliciano shouted. "You're lying. They wouldn't—"

"Yeah, those are the best fucking things they offer."

Gilbert just shrugged, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Suddenly Lovino found himself racing towards the base, Feliciano screaming obscenities after him.

* * *

Feliciano was snickering at him, a wink as he took an obnoxious bite of his prize. Lovino wasn't pouting over his inferior desert because he was glaring with nothing but firey hatred at the stupid boy with the gorgeous eyes. Fucker.

Arthur sat pensively, cradling his empty tea cup, staring into the table. Lovino's mouth was dry when he thought about asking anything, so he didn't. Lovino put down his food and wiped his mouth quickly. He was growing anxious here. Arthur's warning from earlier put everyone around them on the stand. The Order was against him, was anyone else? A spy in the Confraternity? Fuck, would it even be considered a spy if it was part of the job title?

"Are you ready to go?" Arthur asked him, sensing the movement.

"Yeah."

Ludwig stood before anyone else, grabbing up his previously emptied plate. Lovino and Gilbert followed, and Feliciano fell into step messily, knocking over a good six things in the process. Lovino rolled his eyes at him. They discarded their things and made their way outside.

"Hey, Artie, where's the watch I lent you?"

"I discarded it."

"What! Why the hell would you do that? It's not your internet history, you can't just erase it!"

"My what?"

Gilbert groaned, his face now in his hands. "Why are you like this?" he groaned half-heartedly. "There was no location you could have gone to that would have required that much secrecy! What did you even do with it?"

"You promised not to ask any questions."

Gilbert shot Lovino a look, as if they would share the disbelief and find humor in it, but Lovino just ticked him a half smile before looking away. So, Gilbert didn't know, then. That was—was good?

Arthur sighed deeply, his watch poised and a tired look in his eyes. "Are you all sure about this?"

A bright light followed the laughs and jokes and sigh. Lovino closed his eyes, suddenly pensive of what was about to happen.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Remember two months ago when I told all of you guys that this was a side fic? Remember that? Well, I managed to update the main fic_ Sacrificial Surrender _for the first time in two months. Because: logic._

_I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I am a fucking nerd when it comes to critical reading. Like, it takes me weeks to finish a book because I will read a couple chapters, stop, and reflect for a long while before continuing. You will find more notes in the books on my shelfs then you will book-content (and it really doesn't help that I'm trash for classics like Dickens and Golding and the likes). I encourage it, too!_

_Soooo_

COMMENT! I have laid all plot-relevant information needed to predict how the story continues from here to the end. Tell me, what do you guys think will happen? (Bigger picture, not silly adventure set up at the end of this chapter, of course)


	31. Trente et Un

They came to the familiar-ish brush of the Neverworld. Lovino closed his eyes, though his head stayed around him. In the yellow of the ferns at their feet, in the rolling winds, in the creeping shadows that tore at his memory in too many directions. He could taste the smell of decay, though he wasn't sure if it was because of a Neverborn nearby or because his trepidation attacked his senses so drastically. Balling his fists he turned his attention, instead, to the people that surrounded him. Why did he let them agree to this? He—His plan was nothing more than to yell back louder than before. He knew what he was facing now. He could—but why did they come? What fucking use were they in the end?

Feliciano stumbled backwards with a light gasp when a creature tore out of the tree, seeming to head straight for him before catching the wind and taking to the sky. Ludwig caught him by the shoulders and helped him stabilize.

Ludwig chuckled. "You should be used to traveling by now."

"I know, I know, but this is a lot different then the places that we've gone!" Feliciano gushed. "It's so…creepy."

"I think it's beautiful," Gilbert said with a chuckle, stuffing a hooked hand into his pocket. "I come here a lot. The creatures here—well, it's not difficult to find one to test my babies on. They're all so angry and ready to fight!"

"What's that?" Lovino asked the smug albino as he pulled the thing he was looking for into the purple light of the eerie jungle. It was small, oval, similar to shape of a bulky bracelet. He slid it on his dominate wrist before quickly following it up with a glove riddled with spiderweb thin wires. The bracelet slipped onto the fabric and off his skin. He quickly secured it, but he wasn't done until another glove was pulled onto his other hand, seeming to intentionally cover his watch.

"I told you I had powers too," he smirked. "Lud, did you—"

" _Yes_ ," he sounded almost annoyed—if not so drearily monotonous—as he pulled open the coat he had switched into before joining them for lunch to produce a pair of goggles.

"I love having you around."

"You should be more responsible," the taller blond scolded.

"Why would I put the effort into doing that when I know that you have my back?" He laughed, pushing the oversized glasses onto his face. Brown leather suctioned them to his face and tied into a knot behind his head.

"I'm not sure if technology counts as a power," Lovino pointed out.

"As if! My intellect is the finest power anyone could wish for. If I were a super hero, I'd be Captain Awesome."

"Because  _that's_  original and  _not_  something you made up when you were six," Ludwig groaned.

"I was four, Luddy. Entrepreneur; little me was before his time." No one commented on the irony of that statement.

"So, what does it do?" Lovino asked skeptically with a click of his tongue. "Looks like glorified trash to me."

"We really don't have time for this," Arthur groaned.

" _Magic_. I based this prototype on a certain Englishman's abilities."

"You have more than one," Feliciano gawked, steeling Gilbert's arm without permission to better examine the device. The blond only basked in the attention.

"Of course, I do!"

"Turn it on!"

"Feliciano, don't encourage him," Ludwig sighed.

"Gotta agree with the potato on this one," Lovino muttered.

"The what—"

"Watch, Feli, you're going to love this." Gilbert practically boasted his chest with pride as he pulled his wrist back. A whirring noise, similar to a fan made of braided leather, started up at the press of a button before falling silent. He paused dramatically, taking a breath, before making a practiced circle with his arm. A spitting blue flame followed his movements. He stepped back, forcing his arm back with him, drawing the blue flame into a whip. Taking hold of it he grinned, snapping it through the air. It caught a low-hanging leaf. The heavy piece of vegetation popped and withered into a black curl of itself before the whip had a chance to finish its movement, brushing against the ground to leave similar distruction.

"Oh my God!" Feliciano cried out. "That  _is_  magic!"

"Told you. But that's not the best of it. This is just—"

"Gilbert. You can show off later!" Arthur shouted, his tea seeming to wear off as the nerves pricked red at his neck.

"C'mon, Artie, I just want to show them the  _Praesidio_ ," he whined.

"It is not a  _Praesidio_ , it is a carbon copy of one."

"Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe."

"And we do not have time for it!"

Gilbert let his enthusiasm drop, switching off his bracelet and muttering something under his breath. A child. Feliciano just bounced. "I can't wait to see—to see one of those things, Gilbert. Promise to show me it?" Lovino sighed. Child encouraging child.

"Of course, I will!"

Lovino groaned, steeling past the two idiots. The last time he had come here, they had gone this way, surely. Of course, a good majority of everything looked the same, so Lovino couldn't be positive. He pushed aside a large leaf he was sure was similar, because it was twice his size and drooping and he remembered feeling kinda like an ant, and so here he was, feeling small again and stepping into a familiar clearing.

All good things. Except for one small detail.

"Where—Where is he?" Lovino asked—himself or Arthur he didn't know (or really care, he was getting frustrated and he wasn't sure why. He had just gotten there!) He continued into the clearing. A large puddle of slime sat where Nurgle had however long ago. It stunk and Lovino didn't have to touch it to know it was genuine. Feliciano squatted down to examine it, scrunching up his nose with disgust.

"Ew, what is this?"

"Proof that we're in the right place," Lovino answered lowly, turning around himself, as If the clearing held a place for such a gargantuan feind to hide. The trees here seemed to not have bark, but rather thick stems—like that of the tree branch. Lovino only noticed because Feliciano was on his feet and exploring before anyone could stop him.

"Look, Lovi, a crab!" he cooed.

"Don't touch that!" Lovino cried, running over to quickly relieve the boy from the creature that no doubt had been one of the ones feasting on whatever the hell was oozing out of Nurgle the last time he was here. "Do you  _want_  to die of the god damn plague?"

Feliciano blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"

"There aren't any tracks," Ludwig said, quickly catching on to the situation.

Gilbert lifted his finger from the sludge, bringing it close to the goggles to get a better look at it. "Weird, this doesn't feel right."

"What do you mean? I really rather not—ugh," Lovino sighed, once again finding the slime on his hands. He paused. "What is this?" It wasn't the same as before. Like a slug's slime it had been both sticky and slick at the same time. Now, though, it seemed to be more like gelatin. It almost felt as if it were solidifying around him finger. He wiped it off quickly, standing. "Well, Arthur, what do you suggest we—" he cut himself off. "Arthur-?" The British man wasn't by the leaf like he had been a minute ago. "Hey, did you guys see where—" he turned around. No one.

Clenching his jaw he blinked. Something was behind him. He could feel it breathing—he felt smaller than ever. Slowly turning, Nurgle became a sight, small beaded eyes and rolls basking in the slime that dripped into the pool no longer empty.

Lovino backed away. "What—What was that?" he demanded. "Where are the others?"

"What others?" Nurgle's response was easy and smooth.

"My—You weren't—I—" he shook his head, looking down at his hands as if he held the answer. He didn't. As was fucking usual.

Fuck, despair was a mental force, wasn't it? Was all that just an illusion? But—But why?

"Despair brings madness upon fragile psyches. You are weak." Nurgle said from above him.

Lovino watched his hands ball and felt the twinge in his neck as his chin reached for defiance. "My psyche is not weak."

"It is cracking."

"I'm sane!

"Have you always been sane? What does it mean to be sane?"

"Stop with the fucking mind games," Lovino lashed out, stair-stepping his stance just as Ludwig had taught him and calling forth his first weapon of anger. However, he would not be taken off guard again. In the other hand he called forth his shield. It spittered and spat before falling away. He growled. Find something to protect or fucking break a leg. In a paroxysm, almost a trepidation of timelessness, Lovino brought his free hand to his mouth. His teeth found the base of his wrist and tore mercilessly, a red iron bursting past his lips and dripping down his fingertips when he threw out his hand to try again. His shield's handle twisted around his arm in thin, veiny patterns, drawing power from the open wound and spreading it's protection all the way to his chest, his heart. He breathed in, feeling almost powerful here, despite the sharpness that turned his vision blurred and white and blue. "Come at me."

"No."

"I'm not falling for that this time!" he screamed, his arms and legs aching with inaction. If he would not raise his defenses, then he would fall defenseless! That was how this game worked. Protect the king or forfeit the fucking match!

Lovino sliced his weapon through the air, running forward and taking his hit. One of Nurgle's soldiers appeared and defended, catching the high attack and pushing Lovino away. The brunet's stance had gotten better with his training. Not only was he able to recover his guard with little to no effort, he was also able to approach quicker then ever, hitting lower, taking advantage of the sudden opening.

The soldier blocked and hit back, throwing Lovino into a sea of blackness.

Voices started up again, twirling and pushing. Each word took away the fire of his sword, cut at the deterministic attitudes he had secured since he went back the first—no, that wasn't real. He had never gone back. He had never had that talk with the group—lunch and jokes and fears.

"You're cracking."

"You're falling."

"What does it mean to be sane?"

He shook his head violently. "Shut up, damn it!" He slashed widely around, missing evasive shadows until with a bellicose yell he finally hit one.

"You should have known it was fake."

"Who would help you?"

"It made no sense. They don't care."

"He's made new, better friends."

"What use are you when there's something interesting happening?"

Lovino grit his teeth, the heat between him and the daemon rising, Lovino's weapon quivering under the pressure.

"You're a failure of a human."

"You're a disaster of a god."

He swung his shield, catching the shadow and knocking it down. It disappeared in the sea. A million new minions to attack, to fight. "Keep it coming!" As he screamed, he found his shield spreading. Soon every vein was burning with tar, covering him, dripping from his body before hardening. His heart was slowing, but he wasn't going to give up. His armor reached to his sword and surrounded it. Something of a purple light immitted from the mixed powers of pain and anger.

The sea came together, their words mixing and sharp. They weighed him down, covering his shoulders and face and nose and mouth and he couldn't breathe but he wouldn't fall here! He allowed each negative thought seep beneath his skin and crack around him. He would become porcelain. He would allow his body to break so that his mind would grow stronger!

He threw another attack. A million shadows. He hit and he hit, and they hit back, from all sides. Grabbing from behind, screaming, shouting, teaming up and fighting. Lovino would beat Nurgle! The fire in his sword grew brighter, a brevity of his ambition as he set his goal.

"Why are you here?"

He wasn't going to listen.

"What does beating me accomplish?'

"Do you not have to still beat you?"

He wasn't listening! He had his goal! He would beat Nurgle! He would learn how to control his powers! He would make it better!

"You are selfish."

"Righting your wrongs to make yourself feel better is no better than the act that put the guilt in your heart."

"A child."

He was pushed to his knees, his hair pulled and arms wretched back. He screamed and fought, never relinquishing the hilt of his sword. The blues and reds and blurs and falling shadows that kissed and whispered all became a hue of red. His armor fell into the cracks of his newly glass face, stiffening it, protecting it. He threw himself forward, breaking away from the shadow that held him and swinging his weapon. The once simple sword was now engraved beautifully, once purples now yellow in the new, red world.

A brilliant blue light shot forward. Lovino screamed as he was hit in the chest and thrown backwards, his back slamming into one of the smooth surfaces of the trees. The words of the shadows became louder, engulfing him as he looked down to see the black plate around his chest to be tarnished with a great hole—with the spilling of his own blood.

He coughed but would not fall. His mind was strong! He placed his hand against his chest and sought to mend the broken armor. Instead the stitches thickened his blood into boiling oils that fell over his hand. He was bulletproof if he couldn't bleed!

"You cannot continue to resist."

"You are dying."

"Stay quiet, it is better this way."

"Arthur has not ended it because he wants you to die."

"He has brought you here to watch you fail."

"To do his job."

"You are nothing but a nuisance to those around you."

"No one can love chaos."

"Chaos brings only destruction."

Lovino laughed, falling into shaky steps and raising his sword. "I am destruction!" he screamed. "I will destroy you and prove that I can control this—me—I can! I will control my powers and do good! Chaos can be—Chaos is good!"

His head spun and his sword was glowing brighter than ever. He ran and hit at the sea, but where was one supposed to hit when the world was suddenly black, save for the glowing of his sword? Save for the glowing of the blue that suddenly surrounded him and burned him and dropped him to his knees. He screamed, his sword falling as the slinking blue surrounded and shattered Lovino's armor and weapon. He screamed and screamed, but wouldn't fall further! No!

Burning, forever burning, pain pain! He could draw power from the pain! It said that he was alive. And if he was fucking alive that meant that he could fucking succeed.

He stood.

Whispers, whispers, the burning fell away with a scream. Everything was black save for the yellow of his sword—

No.

The blackness that surrounded his hands was not of his own creation—or, manipulation. It wrapped around his fingers, lacing and warm, before leading him to take a shaky step forward. The yellow glowed, slowly becoming pure, and Lovino blinked away the tears that surged from the burns and open wounds. He blinked but all he could see was black!

His hands disappeared behind the newest illusion, wrapping the shadow in a loose embrace. "Do you hear the voices too?" It asked.

The voice shattered everything Lovino thought he knew. The sea whispered and tittered and became a shade darker than the soul of a  _Hollow_.

"Better—"

"No longer needs you—"

"Only stayed because he pities you—"

"Chaos can only hurt—"

"Are you not proof of this yourself?"

"Nothing can grow to love Chaos."

Lovino blinked away the tears brought on by the pain that took hold of every part of his body. Slowly blackness faded from directly in front of him. Like a lifted spell, or wakening from a dream, Lovino found himself face-to-face with Feliciano. He quickly traced the cuts on the boy's face. "I find them a bit funny, don't you?"

"You hurt him again."

"You wish to protect him, yet you hurt him."

"He doesn't trust you."

"Why is he here?"

"Does he want to see you fail, too?"

"You can feel that, can't you? His hurt."

Lovino could. He could feel what that stupid smile hid. He could close his eyes and see it. "Why—How can you smile?" Lovino whispered. A billowing smoke, the shadows floated around the two of them.

"—pity—"

"—monster—"

"—hurt—"

"—failure—"

Feliciano leaned in closer, practically resting his chin on Lovino's shoulder, his breath skittering across Lovino's ear as if he were sharing a secret. "I told you before. The greater the sadness, the greater the happiness that comes after it." He could feel the smile inches from his skin, but it quivered. The emptiness in Lovino's gut twisted and lifted, the warmth of the boy's touch spreading, his voice so easy to get lost in, drowning out the millions of whispers. A drop—a tear.

He wasn't wearing his gloves.

Lovino quickly tore away, but Feliciano had grown stronger through his own training and was able to hold him there. "Let me go, idiot! Where are your gloves! Where—"

"You have to set a goal, Lovino," Feliciano continued easily. "I want to be happy, so I have to let myself be sad. What do you want?"

"I want you to let me go. Please, Feliciano, I—"

The boy pulled away from his shoulder and stared him in the face. He looked so serious, so sure. Lovino stopped struggling. He needed—the whispers. The whispers surrounded and antagonized him, but he needed to calm down.

Anger was focus, life was pain, despair was reflection. They all came from an energy, an action, but they were thrown out of control when mixed with emotions. Lovino calmed his breath, realized his quickening pulse, his feet on the ground, his hands around the boy's waist, the closeness, the laced fingers, the sadness—the confusion and the self-loathing and the burned image of beauty becoming so ugly because there was no meaning to life—he clenched his jaw. No, no, no. He needed to calm down. He needed to still his heart and sympathies. If he didn't—

"You're hurting him."

"You're killing him."

"He wants to die. Hasn't he already admitted that much?"

"He lies to you."

"He pities you."

"He doesn't care for you."

Lovino's voice was shaken and raw as he cried: "please, I don't want to hurt you." He needed to focus. The idiot! Bastard! Fucking—Fucking bitch. Lovino found no vigor behind the words, no matter how aggressively he sang them in his head. No matter how true they were. The voices around him told him that this wasn't real, just another illusion. He filled his lungs with a comfort that if they were right then the only one in pain was himself. He drew power from pain, so it was okay.

Feliciano wanted to be happy, and Lovino was realizing that he wanted Feliciano to be happy, too. Lovino wanted to be good, he wanted to make up for what he did—to the man he killed and the woman that he ruined—but the voices were right. He needed to do more than that. He realized that doing good and becoming good were two very different things and that the line was smudged and blurred just as the illusion of happiness was. Because becoming good was a child's cartoon story arch, and real life held sacrifices and lives to be lost and friends to hurt and be hurt by. Feliciano was good because he didn't try to be good. He just wanted to be happy, and for some stupid reason he found happiness through others rather than himself. But that also meant that he strived on others sadness, didn't it?

Lovino tried to ignore the tears that streamed down Feliciano's face despite the smile that spoke only of relief. "How?" Lovino asked lowly. "How can you even think of happiness?"

"The key to beating the voices is to know that you have something they don't: ambition. A will to find tomorrow despite whatever yesterday held."

"And you chose—"

"I chose to be happy. Because happiness comes with people loving and helping each other, with justice and empathy finally being put as something we should strive for rather than a weakness."

Lovino closed his eyes with an aired, dubious breath. "Your goal is world fucking peace."

"And it's silly and impossible," Feliciano said with a light disappointment to his tone, "but at the same time, if you can never actually reach your goal then maybe you never lose reason to fight. So, Lovi, what do you want?"

"I want to be good. I—I don't want to become—become the monster that Chaos was. I want to learn how to control my powers so that I never hurt anyone ever again."

He had screamed his declaration at the top of his lungs,  _Chaos is good! I will learn to control my powers!_ , yet it was in the quiet admittance that the shadows seemed to find their defeat. They sunk away, leaving the yellow tuffs and strange-barked trees to surround the two.

Feliciano opened his hands, but Lovino let his arms linger and eyes continue to stare. He didn't want to break the connection, the closeness, the silence between the two of them that filled him with something of hope. As if a weight had lifted. As if he had finally found the light at the end of a winding tunnel that connected his thoughts with reality.

He let his arms fall when Feliciano dropped his attention to the bleeding wound in Lovino's chest. "Does this hurt—"

"Fuck!"

"Gilbert, quick, I think we need to tend to this."

And then Gilbert was there. And then Ludwig because turns out doctoring isn't a part of Gilbert's vast intellectual knowledge. Lovino hissed at the taller blond, a few choice words on his lips as he did something to the fucking thing that seemed to only be done to hurt Lovino beyond all else.

"I told you to go easy on him," Feliciano whined at Gilbert.

"I did! He's not  _dead_  is he?"

"Getting there—" he choked dramatically.

"Anyway, he was attacking us with a fucking sword, Feli. You don't get too many options when a crazy lunatic is running around with a literal god sword."

"And Lovino, sane people don't run around screaming that they're sane." Ludwig muttered with a deciding nod. "The armor was thick enough to absorb the majority of the impact. He might need a stitch or two—"

"Oh, superglue works great with cuts!" Feliciano chimed in.

Lovino shook his head, grimacing as he sat up. "Wait? You guys were here the whole fucking time?"

"Uh, yeah." Gilbert drew. "We don't wear bruises and bloody noses for the trend."

"Fuck," he groaned. "I thought—Nurgle fucking said that—"

"You saw Nurgle."

Lovino started. He had forgotten that Arthur was there. The blond looked a bit disheveled, something bobbing the Adam's apple in his throat. His eyes were on some verge of insanity Lovino had never seen before. "Yeah, I did. He—"

"Where was he?"

"Right where we left him last time. Only, you guys weren't there. It was just me and him and the weird shadow fuckers."

"And you just—" he cut himself off.

"What aren't you telling us?" Gilbert said slowly. "First the watch and now this. What is it?"

Arthur dropped the subject. It didn't seem that a single word more would be shared between them on it—well, it seemed that way but Gilbert quickly stood and pushed the blond past the tree-line.

Ludwig got up, muttering something about Gilbert about to start a fight, before following after.

Lovino tried to get up and play the  _Beat the truth out of the Brit_  game, but Feliciano forced him back down. "We'll get you to the nurse when we get back, but until then stay still." The nurse and Lovino were on a first name basis now; he was in there a lot.

Lovino frowned when Feliciano lifted his hands and he caught sight of the boy's wrists. "Damn it, Feliciano," he growled, angrier at himself then he was the kid as he grabbed his arm to examine it closer. A red blister bubbled up the boy's arm, following the vein.

He expected Feliciano to laugh, to tell him not to worry about it, but instead the boy just frowned down at the wound. "I really hope that you succeed."

What did that mean?

The boy stared with wretched features, dancing eyes that seemed to want to spill over. Lovino lost every word he ever knew, even the angry comments that had readily been on his tongue before. Feliciano's auburn hair was streaked and messy, a bruise formed over his cheekbone, a simple scratch giving indication that the blow had broken the skin.

Finally, he found something to say. "People don't change, Fell. I—" he clenched his jaw, his throat suddenly tight as he forced himself to look away. "I'm going to try my hardest, but in the end I'm still me. You can't fix that."

There was a short pause. "It's not fair that you heard what they were saying to me but I didn't get to hear what they were saying to you."

Lovino shook his head. "I'm—"

"But you know what I realized?" Feliciano continued musingly, staring into his lap. "It's good that people don't change, because instead they grow and become stronger because of the work that they have to put into themselves. It's like all those Calvin and Hobbs stories, you know? And, well, I can't really help you become good, but I can try to support you and be there when you fall because that's what friends are for, right? I can grow stronger myself so that I can beat you up when you go crazy, and I can be there for when you get so lost that you find yourself thinking that those closest to you are the enemy." He chuckled. "I can't make you get a couch, or text me back quicker, or learn a million codes so that I—well, I can't make you do anything. But, I will support you in what you choose to do and I will help you because I believe in you."

"I—But—"

"And you can't make  _me_  do anything. You can't make me leave, and you can't make me let you destroy yourself because I might get hurt. People get hurt for a lot less, Lov. If you're allowed to be good then I'm allowed to be silly, okay?" Lovino couldn't respond to that. What was he supposed to say? He was never good with feelings, but he was getting better at it little by little-leave Feliciano to find a way to send him a curve ball. The boy's smile only intensified everything, the eyes that were dimmed under the Neverworld's light attacked Lovino's tongue, twisting it into a violent silence. "Now, lay back down. You need to get some rest."

"What I need is you," his head offered as a retort. "I need you." The words wouldn't filter from his head and fill his mouth. They stalled in the brilliance of such confidence from the boy Lovino had known to be blissfully ignorant. Lovino had never really known him, had he? The secret detective work, the painful past, the doubts in something he preached so willingly. The boy held something that Lovino had never known he wanted, needed, yearned to have—no, yearned to be a part of. Because there was one thing that Lovino had come to terms a long time ago, and that was that Feliciano would never be content being owned. His attitudes in retail, his inability to sit still, to let adventure pass, a new stranger and a new story. A something that was evasive, separate from anything he had pursued in the past.

Everything was different with Feliciano, and Lovino needed it. "I need you, Feliciano."

Ludwig was back in their company before Lovino could bring himself to say it.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Remember when I told you guys, 140k words ago, that this was written to be itacest trash? And then I forced you guys to wait 140k for anything to even be_ mentioned _on the subject? Yeah. I remember that, too._

COMMENT! Alright you guys, so despair was defeated through ambition, but there was another player in this fight. Who were they and what were they defeated with?


	32. Trente-Duex

Gilbert stalked back, his watch out and a deep frown etched in his features.

"Figure anything out?" Ludwig asked.

The albino hissed through his teeth. "No. He won't talk."

Lovino swallowed, grabbing at his chest as he stood up. Light and they were in front of the sky-claw base. Lovino stifled a slight groan. No wind somehow made the burns around his body to whine and swell. Gilbert and Feliciano helped him up. Arthur appeared.

"Gilbert, listen to me—"

"No," he snapped. "I'm sick and tired of you and your fucking kind keeping secrets. When in the past has it ever done you good? This isn't politics and two sides with nuclear fire—this is the question of whether life will continue to exist. But, who knows, maybe in another few billion years we'll get another bang."

The British man took his defeat in silence. With an arm over Feliciano's shoulder, and the other over Gilbert's, Lovino started his way towards the string. Suddenly the British man was running forward and demanding Feliciano's attention. Feliciano stalled, the sudden stop caused a great pain in Lovino's body.

"Take this," Arthur said quietly—so quietly that Lovino was sure he wasn't supposed to have heard it.

"What is it—" Feliciano started to say, opening the hand that Arthur had just closed around the object. Quickly Arthur forced his fingers back around the object, looking over his shoulder with a great unease that the blond rarely showed before (though Lovino had to admit that what he had showed were starting to morph him into a new figure in his head). It wasn't quick enough to keep Lovino from catching what it was, however. A small, silver log-like whistle.

"Don't. Keep it to yourself. I'm sure Lovino will tell you how to use it."

Lovino grunted. "As if. This kid would kill me for shits and giggles."

The boy bristled. "Kill? I don't want this—"

"He's being dramatic. Don't let anyone know that you have it. Anyone. Do not trust anyone."

Was this about the whistle or the Order? Perhaps both? Lovino could feel Gilbert tense, a short laugh in the back of his throat like a growling snake.

"Are you done, Arthur?"

The British man straightened and opened his mouth to respond, but the whole world erupted into a yelling chaos before he had the chance. A large group came from the base. Rei made her way through the crowd. Her chin was tipped, her eyes were determined, set on Lovino.

"You have been requested by the Order."

Arthur turned, deep frown and tensed shoulders. "He's hurt. We need to get him to the—"

"Arthur," Rei snapped venomously, "you can't stop it this time."

Lovino was wretched away from Feliciano and Gilbert. He caught Ludwig hiding ready fists at his side as someone pushed an advancing Gilbert back. "What is this about?" Gilbert demanded.

Lovino hissed, biting something harsh at one of the men that pushed him forward. He was as ignored as Gilbert was.

The trip up and through was painful, cluttered and curious. Lovino tried to pull himself away when he heard from behind himself someone cry out, but he was slammed against a wall. He hung his head in a fit of aggressive coughs. Suddenly he was pushed to the floor and left alone.

A gentle fist found its way to his chest and he attempted to ignore the stickiness of the liquid. "Fuck," he growled.

"You're hurt."

Fucking Anubis. He shot a glare upwards. "Are you the fucking god of being obvious too now?" he demanded.

"You have refused to use the amulet."

He shook his head, putting it back down, not caring enough to look up at the god. "What do you want?" he muttered into the floor.

"I have already told you what I want."

"And I decided that it was a bad idea."

"You do not get to decide this."

"And yet I did. Whoopdi _fucking_ doo."

"I am only trying to help you. The others—"

Lovino tried to laugh in a bitter, mocking humor, but he ended up falling into another painful fit of chokes. "Yeah—I—I heard," he rasped, ignoring the taste of blood in his mouth. His eyes were screwed shut; he tried to focus on the pain and help it get better through his powers, but he was drained and couldn't call forth anything but shaky words.

Suddenly everything intensified, every nerve burned and nip—it was something he had learned to cope with through his abilities, but somehow here it was different. He couldn't draw from it. He could only throw his hand back and scream.

"You will listen to me!" the god above him screamed.

Small, Lovino felt small. He could feel the stress of the pain spill onto his cheeks. At least there was a comfort in that. He stared up at the shadowed figure above him. His voice was weak, his body was dying, but the smaller he felt the less he cared. "Fuck you," he bit.

And then the world fell away. It cracked and splintered, the ground broke beneath him and scattered away to clear room for the pavement that appeared beneath him. The forever sky and god were gone, replaced by a sky he could recognize as Earthly. He blinked, taking in the slightly view of buildings and puttering of vehicals that gave him no mind as they rushed past the ally he was in.

It was so cold, here. Feeling alone, Lovino attempted to stand, but his knees wouldn't listen to him and the muscles in his legs were suddenly lit with a new flame.

Something touched his back. Anubis. "Lawrence, Kansas, 1987."

Lovino grit his teeth. "Why are we here?" he demanded.

"Because this is where Antonio is."

"What! You know his location and you haven't—"

"Fifteen foot soldiers have fallen to the hands of—"

"Then send a fucking god! You're a lot of god damn cowards. You let fucking foot soldier die when I know you fucking have the power to defeat him on your god damn own! He's human, ass hat!" Lovino screamed, ignoring the lash of pain that every word brought him.

A small girl skipped by the ally, but she didn't stop to look at the screaming man on his knees or vast shadow that stood behind him disguised as a simpleton. Lovino cut himself off when he saw her. She looked familiar, but he had no idea where he had seen her before.

"He has targeted an Alfred Jones in this time. I believe you know the name."

Lovino didn't understand. Why did this matter. Why did Anubis believe that this information was relevant? Why didn't  _he_  fight the fucking psychopath? There were too many unknowns, and the knowns were hardly that.

The only thing Lovino was positive of was that he couldn't trust Anubis.

It only took a blink for Lovino to be sitting in the middle of a tiled room and to be staring at a beautifully carved white-washed wall rather than an ally. He hung his head, tired. "I don't understand," he muttered.

"There is no negotiation here." So matter of fact. So decided. So infuriating.

Lovino swallowed back his tears. He found himself smiling slightly. What a fucktard. "You—You didn't even—didn't even teach me how to use it," he hissed through gritted teeth. "You give me a fucking rock and tell me to go become a fucking—fuck—god. You're an idiot if—idiot if—if—" It was getting harder to breath. His hands were drenched. His head was dizzy. "I'm not—playing. I'm not—becoming—bad ide—idio—t."

"If you will not listen to me you will be killed."

"Great."

"And so will your friends."

He clenched his jaw in an aggressive silence.

"The boy you brought with you is in danger. His life has been rewritten before and it can be rewritten again. If you fail to absorb the Neverborns and secure your potential, he will die."

There was a long, pregnant pause. Lovino had never heard his voice so calm. "Is that a warning or a threat?"

No response came from the god above him. Lovino could feel the little bit of his energy flare red but could do nothing with it. Leaving a red handprint on the ground, he rose to a shaky stance with a silent declaration in his head.

"All life is on the line." Lovino walked hunched over himself towards the door. "Without a god of Chaos there is a great imbalance that will lead to the—"

He was cut off as Lovino slammed the door behind himself. He stumbled into the arms of a stranger.

"Take me to the fucking nurse or I will kill you here and now," he threatened in the woman's ear, grabbing her wrist and digging his nails into her skin with a final bout of energy. The crowd was quiet. What was happening? Why were there so many people?

"I—I—" the woman stammered fearfully.

It was a blurry journey, but Lovino got what he wanted in the end.

"Lovino," the nurse said as he was practically carried in. Quickly he was put on one of the lined beds. The moment he was laid down, he shut his eyes and willed the pain away. Of course, it didn't work. His consciousness was spinning and overworked, and he was fully aware of every ping of a glorified sewing needle and burning of disinfectant.

It was only when everything went quiet that he could, too. He needed to stay awake, to figure out a plan, but his luck put him under. Fucking fuck.

* * *

"How long was I out!" he screamed, sitting quickly, finding his movements easy and his chest covered in bandages and a sticky salve that smelled of mint and caused his whole upper body to be completely numb.

Gilbert was holding something to his face. When he had last seen him, he had been rugged from his fight with Lovino, but now he looked three levels worse. Split lip and gleaming eyes only looked onto the brunet with satisfaction, though. (Which only explained the six other people grueling over wounds behind him.)

Arthur was close behind him, his arms crossed over his chest. "Not long enough," he said simply. "You should really calm down."

"Where's Feliciano?" he looked around for his shirt.

"Downstairs with Lud getting something to eat." Gilbert said.

Lovino shook his head. "I don't understand. What was that all—what's happening."

"You need to lay back," Arthur said. "We don't have time for you to go pulling your stitches."

"Lovino, here," the nurse appeared at his side with a small paper cup of pills. Lovino discarded them, demanding his shit back. Arthur opened his mouth again, but Lovino sent him a look that quickly shut him up. He was a fucking coward in the end, Lovino decided.

The nurse ended up not being able to hold Lovino who was already sick of the bed. His clothing had been ruined thanks to Gilbert's god damn invention, so he was given something new and stiff. He didn't care, throwing the long-sleeve on quickly as he ran down the stairs. Gilbert followed him quickly, leaving the medicated pack behind him.

"Yo, wait up," he called. Lovino continued. "Lovino!" Gilbert grabbed him by the shoulder, forcing him to stop just as he was reaching the bottom of the staircase. Someone made their way past them, eyeing Lovino suspiciously. Lovino had to keep himself from threatening them. "What's the rush?"

"What's the—" he laughed. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, but—"

"But what, Lovino?" he asked scrupulously. "Do you know what's going on? Because from what I've figured out is that you're one step away from getting yourself killed and running around like this isn't helping your case."

"But why? Why am I on some kill list?"

Gilbert sighed. "That, I don't know." He sniggered. "But it was fun trying to find out."

Lovino rolled his eyes and moved to continue on his path. Suddenly, he turned back around. "What do you know?"

Gilbert quirked a brow. "I just told you—"

"What do you know about the gods," he quickly rephrased. "More importantly: how do you kill a god?"

The albino froze. His eyes slitted and his mouth took on a tension that Lovino had only seen on Ludwig thus far. He seemed to study the other. "You know, maybe this is why you're on a godly hitlist," he hissed under his breath. Lovino glared at him, humorless. "Gods die when their energy levels run out. So to kill one you would have to rewrite the string."

"But that's impossible."

"For you, yeah. In the end, only gods and kill gods."

Lovino's heart skipped. "Gods can—"

"It's why they're in charge."

Lovino threw a sudden fist against the stairwell's railing. "Fuck!" he screamed. "That fucking bastard! Fuck!"

Gilbert grabbed his wrist to keep him and his sudden flare of anger from hitting the metal again. "Calm down, you're still healing. What—"

Lovino pulled his arm back. "He thinks he's so fucking clever," he sneered under his breath. "Fucking bastard."

Lovino needed to learn how to use the god damn stone after all, huh? Gilbert fixed him with a curious glare, but quickly it raised to behind them. Lovino's own vision was distracted. Arthur had appeared from the top of the staircase. He hesitated.

"You were supposed to keep him in the ward until the Confraternity was ready, Arthur," Rei drew from behind him.

"I'm sorry, he—" Arthur began.

Gilbert and Lovino shared a look. They knew what was happening. Lovino was suddenly aware of the distance from him and his room. "Gil," he hissed. "Can I ask a favor?"

"Not sure if this is the time." Gilbert hissed back.

"Protect Feliciano."

The albino smirked. "You going with her?"

Lovino just smirked. "I'll also need to you to move aside real quick."

"You'll never get out of the base if you go that way." But Lovino wasn't given a chance to respond, Gilbert was much quicker than him. Suddenly his arm was grabbed, something was clasped to his wrist, and an approaching Arthur had an elbow in the face. "Go!"

Lovino didn't need to be told twice.

"Gilbert! What are you doing!" Rei screamed.

Lovino didn't hear the response as he flew up the stairs and towards the next. He was glad the people he passed were too shocked to stop him. Coming to the common room he ran into a group of faceless assholes.

"Where are you going?" One of them asked, catching him by the arm.

"I thought he was supposed to be going to trial."

Lovino pulled himself free, but another one was on him in a moment. He could hear the scuffle from the stairs. Clenching his jaw, and seeing no other option, he quickly called to his first weapon of anger.

The lot of them back away. He quickly took the opening and continued his path. "Stop him!" he heard Rei scream. Fuck fuck fuck.

He needed to block off the stairway. Stopping only a few steps on the stairs he turned and recalled a plate twice his size. It solidified and turned silver. He turned before he could catch a reflection and continued on his way, hoping beyond all else that it would hold.

He practically crashed into his room, falling towards the chest at the foot of his borrowed bed. He knelt to his knees and dug through it until he found the shape of the familiar stone. He stood and turned.

"Where did you get that!" Rei cried from his doorway.

Lovino swallowed, quickly stuffing the thing into his pocket. She strode toward him and grabbed for his arm but he quickly dodged away. Running to the hallway he found a group at the end of the hall. Slow steps took him backwards. Rei came out of his room. He was cornered.

"Just come with me. You're being called to trial. You have a chance to defend yourself."

Defend himself against what? He clenched his jaw. The only reason he got through the last Confraternity trial was because Arthur was on his side. The askew blond hair and heavy drops of blood staining his outdated outfit stared at him from the crowd. Like he would be allowed to explain anything.

His heart in his throat he quickly looked down at what Gilbert had left him. A watch—only it didn't show the time. There was a small piece of paper attached to it, a strange sequence of symbols drawn onto it. The symbols seemed to correlate to those that the watch blared at him.

"I really fucking hope this works."

Rei's bellicose curses was the last thing he heard before a bright light blinded him.

When he was able to see again, he found himself surrounded by dust and desolate buildings. Everything, even the clouds in the sky, seemed to be some shade of brown. He stood in the middle of a road littered with all kinds of junk. The only thing he could compare it to was some post-apocalypse movie scene.

"Lovino!" Lovino turned around just in time to catch the boy who flew into his arms. He had never been so happy to be headbutted by that nest of auburn hair. "I was so scared you weren't going to make it. Gilbert said that there was a large group after you and that Rei and Arthur were both trying to attack you and he wouldn't let me and Ludwig come help you and—"

Lovino drowned out the rest of the boy's cries, looking up to see an advancing Ludwig and Gilbert. Three levels worse had turned into an easy ten, but it didn't keep the smirk from Gilbert's face.

"Thank you," Lovino said honestly with a light sigh.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You can keep that, but I swear if you pull a god damn Arthur and  _discard_  it—" Lovino chuckled lightly. Gilbert's hand was in his pocket, coming back with another one. "Feli," he said. The boy finally let Lovino go. Gilbert offered the prize. Feliciano took it timidly.

"How do you have so many if you're only allowed to have one?" he asked, wordlessly pushing his wrist and the watch towards Lovino in a demanding  _help me put it on_. Lovino rolled his eyes but helped nonetheless.

"Well, now I only have one," the albino groaned, something of a scowl pouting on his lips. "When our parents died I took theirs before the Confraternity could, and Grandpa gave me his before his last trip."

"His last trip?"

"To the string. This isn't the Confraternity's first time dealing with  _Hollows_ , and, well, Grandpa was just another casualty." He smiled bitterly. "It's the way of the Beilschmidt family, and Grandpa knew that." Lovino looked down at the watch he had been given. "Anyway, just be careful with them. Last thing I have of my parents." He laughed as Feliciano started with an uncomfortable cry.

"I—Really I can't take—"

"Calm down, Feli," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm just joking. I have Ludwig, too."

"Careful," Lovino sighed under his breath without thinking, "Feliciano will take him too if you're not careful."

Feliciano shot him a glare. "What is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

Lovino found himself stuttering under the intense stare. "Just that you're a whore." Fuck, why was he like this?

"I am not!"

Ludwig's face had gotten a little redder under the brown overcast. He cleared his throat. "What's the plan from here?" he asked quickly, changing the subject.

Feliciano blinked, turning back to Gilbert. Gilbert sighed, looking to Lovino. Lovino sighed. "Gilbert, tell me you know what the fuck this is and how to use it." He fished the stone from his pocket and extended it towards the curious red eyes.

"Is this what you risked your life for?" he asked as he took it into his hands.

"Yeah," he groaned. "Not that I wanted to. If it were up to me I would throw this off the mountain just like Arthur did your watch."

" _Off a mountain!_  How unawesome can one be?" Gilbert cried.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "So?"

Turning his attention back to the stone, Gilbert studied it quickly. However, it was Ludwig who piped up with an idea.

"Isn't that a resurrection stone?" he asked.

"That's what I was thinking, but look at it," Gilbert handed the stone to his brother, "it seems different."

Ludwig took it with a shake of his hand. "I've only seen these things in books. It looks just like a resurrection stone."

"Well, I've actually had one in my possession, and it feels weird."

"How?" Lovino asked as Ludwig handed it to him.

"I don't know. I've only dealt with one and it's because I stole it from Grandpa's things before he had the opportunity to turn it in."

Ludwig nodded. "I remember that. I've never seen you in more trouble."

"Ah, then you were paying enough attention to my teenage years, Luddy."

Lovino shook his head. "Do you know how to use it?"

"Who are you trying to bring back to life?" Gilbert asked, furrowing his brows.

"I'm not trying to bring anyone back to life!"

"Then what are you using it for?"

Lovino fell silent. "I—Well—I—" how the hell was he supposed to word this one? "There might be—" no, that was too casual. "So turns out—" fuck. Unable to find the words, he really hoped he could count on Feliciano to find them. "Hercules?"

Feliciano stared at him for a long moment. "You're going to become a god?"

He ticked a smile at the kid. He couldn't help but notice the silent dissonance that appeared on the kid's face, pulling the corners of his lips downwards. "The option to," he said quietly, unsure why there was so much apology in his tone and in the shrugging of his shoulders.

"That's impossible," Ludwig said matter-of-factly. "Not even half-gods can become full gods. Not to mention the fact that there are so many generations between you and The Warp that you're likely only an eighth of a god, at the most. You can't become a god."

Lovino studied the stone, clicking his tongue. "Well then I don't know why the fuck Anubis is making such a fucking big deal out of it."

"Anubis?" Gilbert demanded. " _He_  gave this to you?" Lovino nodded. "And he didn't tell you how to use it?"

"He's kind've a bitch," Lovino shared bitterly.

"Why would the god of the Underworld give you a resurrection stone?" Ludwig asked dubiously.

Lovino frowned. "I don't fucking know. He was going on about some imbalance or some shit about fucking Antonio and his kill list or something. He is an all-over-the-place type of guy."

"How long have you known about this?" Feliciano asked.

"I—" Lovino started. Fucking Feliciano. "I wasn't planning to do anything with it," why was he trying to make excuses for himself? Feliciano reached out and grabbed it. Suddenly, he screamed and let it fall from his hand with a cry as he cupped the wound to his chest. When he opened his hand, a black burn lay in his palm.

"What the hell?" Gilbert muttered, looking over the wound with a gentle furrow of his brow. He turned to his brother who looked just as worried as Lovino felt. "Have you ever read about a resurrection stone doing this?"

Ludwig took Feliciano's hand gently. The boy recoiled, but soon relaxed as Ludwig's kind touched proved to do no harm. "Not at all."

Lovino picked up the stone. No harm came to him. "Fell, you—you brought your gloves, didn't you?"

The boy nodded slightly. "Yeah."

"Please wear them."

He agreed with another silent nod.

"Anubis said something about absorbing the Neverborns," Lovino shared, turning his attention away from Feliciano, steeling his features. He didn't want to become a fucking god, but fuck, what other choice did he have?

Ludwig's eyes grew in size. "No—That—"

"The descendent of Chaos becoming Chaos by—" Gilbert practically laughed.

Lovino dipped briskly. "He said it was her fucking plan," he growled. "The whole reason she ran off to have a kid was so that one day there would be another god of Chaos." He found himself glaring at his feet. Brown dust dirtied his boots.

"Then who do you plan to kill?" Gilbert asked suddenly.

Lovino stewed in a long moment of silence, squeezing the stone so tightly it bit into his palm. "Antonio, first, and after that, Anubis."

Uncomfortable would be how he described their response. "That harsh of a corner?" Gilbert muttered.

Lovino looked up to shoot him a glare, but Gilbert's face held nothing of a joke. He almost looked understanding. "Yeah."

"Well, then I guess the next course of action, Lud! Lovino, are you ready to become a real-life god?"

"I—"

"Are you kidding yourself, Gilbert? He can't even control the powers he has now!" Ludwig yelled.

Lovino had never agreed with Ludwig more.

"I'm sure he'll do great."

"That's because you're a child!"

"Hey, I'm  _older_  than you."

Lovino let the brothers bicker, curiously stealing a glance at Feliciano. The boy still hugged his wounded hand to himself, just under his chin now, and he stared at the ground with a pensive frown. "Fell, I—" Lovino started, falling short of what to say.

"God, huh?" Feliciano asked, not looking at him. "That's—It's a lot to take in, Lovi."

Lovino chuckled derisively. "Yeah. Too much, really."

"Do you want to—to become a—god?"

Lovino tried to study the boy's face to find where the qualm lay. Was it because he didn't tell him? Was it because he didn't want Lovino to become a god? Because he agreed with Ludwig too? He sighed. "No, I don't."

Honey eyes, both the color and the ability to catch and trap. They asked a million questions that Lovino held no answer to. But none of the question met the boy's lips. He just looked and captured Lovino's attention until, suddenly, he released him with a quant nod of his head and a light laugh. "God, huh?" he repeated, almost cheery. Lovino blinked. "Wow, okay so this really  _is_  Brother Bear meets Hercules! That's a little scary, don't you think? But, hey, I agree with Gilbert. You can do it. And if you mess up we'll beat you up again!"

Lovino shook his head. "Why are you so excited about that?" he groaned.

"Oh, and you still have to teach me how to use this!" he stuck out the whistle.

"Oh no. Don't. Never."

"It kinda looks like a—" he raised it to his lips, taking a deep breath.

"Feliciano—no!"

The kid blew. Fucking Arthur. Fucking Feliciano. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Lovino covered his ears and fell to the ground, hollering through the pain.

"Gah! Lovino! Are you okay!"

"Fuck—you—bitch—" Lovino panted, still holding his head.

Gilbert laughed. "See, Lud, if anything bad happens we'll just use that."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Yay, the real adventure starts now!_


	33. Trente-Trois

Feliciano was practically hugging himself as they walked the decrepit road. "What is this place?" he asked quietly.

"The Renegade." Gilbert said smugly. "It's the place where people wanting to live outside of the gods' rule go."

"There's more people here?" Feliciano brightened.

"Well, no, the gods found out about it and—well—" he chuckled.

"So then where are we going?" Lovino sighed. This felt too much like a stupid Y/A novel. What was next? They were going to rise up and create a better world without gods? As fucking if. Lovino had a goal and a checklist to get there. Check the T on Antonio and Anubis, and hopefully figure out the rest on the way.

His mind was becoming more and more bogged down the more he thought about the stone in his pocket. He almost felt as if it were deterring his aspirations somehow. Were goals really that fickle? That they could be lost amidst distraction and altered paths? He was starting to question how anyone got anything done.

"Well, we gotta figure out the resurrection stone, and I think I know just the place!"

Feliciano had hurried his steps to walk side-by-side Ludwig. He looked up at him with a stupid face. "Did you know about this place?" The blond nodded. "So, are you two, like, working against the Order or something?"

"Nah, but Gramps had a lot of friends round these part. Ahh, right there is where I had my first sip of beer." Gilbert pointed at a pile of broken wood and ashes.

"Quaint," Lovino drew.

"Used to be." Gilbert laughed.

"They didn't protect themselves well enough," Ludwig sighed. "In the end they were caught off-guard and destroyed because they didn't have anything in place of protection."

"Beside the secrecy."

"Yeah," Ludwig shot back slightly perturbed. "But when you're inviting everyone over for a drink that wall is brought down."

"Grandpa was admirable and never snitched!" Gilbert defended.

"But that didn't keep Francis from blabbing."

Gilbert dismissed him with an ugly sound from the back of his throat and throw of his hands. "It's piss that you still think he's the one that snitched. He was chill."

"You were ten, Gil, you thought everyone older than you with a cigarette in their hand was cool."

"We'll agree to disagree," the albino decided.

"Why would the gods even create this place?" Lovino asked, a chill running through and picking up dust in small tornados as it trekked across the rubble.

Gilbert shrugged. "They build things all the time. A world here, a world there. They're a bunch of bored assholes, in the end."

"Amen," Lovino muttered under his breath.

"And so they forget about a lot of there little worlds in the end. Maybe the god that built this one died, or perhaps they just didn't care enough to write it down. Who cares? People came and built a city! A whole world where the only thing in the hands of the gods were their energy level—and when you got trillions of those to deal with, what's a couple thousand?"

" _Thousand_!" Feliciano gushed. "How did they ever think that there was any type of secrecy!"

"Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead," Lovino agreed.

Gilbert shrugged. "Everything has flaws. We'll do better next time."

"Next time?" Feliciano asked.

Ludwig sighed. "No. There will be no next time. Gilbert, stop blowing hot air."

" _What_? If there was once enough followers to fill this place, who's to say there won't be another?"

"The gods who killed every single one of those followers, Gilbert. They could have just rewritten their energy levels, but they made a show of it in a brutal massacre. Damn it, Gilbert, do you not remember what we learned in school?"

"Yeah, I remember school from the Confraternity  _and_  from Earth. People love conflict. I have no doubt in my mind that there are more willing to put their lives on the line for true freedom. Free will, Lud! Could you imagine what would happen if—"

"If what, Gilbert? We started a cult?"

"Well, you don't have to word it that wa—"

"You're being ridiculous." The younger Beilschmidt's tone was final and decisive. Gilbert just shook his head with a silent defiance. Lovino frowned. Free will was something Chaos had fought for, but he didn't feel any different here than he had on the String. He could die the same, and he moved the same, thought the same, he was—he was the exact fucking same. What the fuck was Free Will if one didn't even know when they had it or didn't? He wasn't in shackles on Earth. He just played a part in a government, which would be exactly what he would be doing somewhere like a city outside of the string.

He was going to let the thought pass, but Feliciano spoke up. "Is there not Free Will on Earth?" he chuckled lightly.

"No. Everything you do on Earth is predetermined by everyone else." Ludwig responded.

Lovino shook his head. "But, that's how it is here. If I were to kick Feliciano right now, his reaction would be to get mad or cry about it or whatever,"

"Keep it up, Lovi," Feliciano said, the whistle out of his pocket and teasingly going to the boy's lips.

Lovino ignored him. "What we feel and what we do is effected by our environment and our biology no matter what you do."

"Yes, but on the String there is a history. If I were to go back in time and kill your mother, you would have never been born. There is no such history for these types of worlds." Ludwig explained.

Lovino frowned. "But is that really Free Will?"

"Of course, it is. We don't have to be in constant fear of being changed. We are who we are right now, and what we decide to do may be influenced, but ultimately through the knowledge of Free Will we can truly be free."

"But, the gods can still control your life!"

"Eh," Gilbert said, "they don't care enough to try."

"Could they not kill us right now?" Lovino could feel the feel squeeze at his heart, the sudden fear that everything they were doing here was worth nothing.

"Yeah, if the String stabilizes long enough to figure out which ones are ours," Gilbert sniggered. "Aren't coincidences magical?"

"Not a lot to count on, if you ask me," Ludwig sighed.

"Wait, so, if something happens in our past then—then potentially—" Lovino started, the tension having yet to let up.

"Poof, you no longer exist." Gilbert gave a wonderful demonstration with his hands.

Fuck. "Hey, Fell, you know that one detective guy you talked to a lot?"

"Al? Uh—yeah—I know him?" Feliciano said skeptically.

Lovino stopped dead in his tracks, heels of his palms digging around his eyes. "Fuck. He's not important, is he?"

"Lovino what are you talking about?" Feliciano demanded.

"Like, say he were to, maybe perhaps die in like the eighties?"

"Well, he was the one that introduced my parents."

"Of course he did. Of course. What would this be if he fucking hadn't. Fuck!" With a long sigh he recollected himself best he could. "Anubis told me that—that they picked up Antonio in Lawrence, Kansas the year 1987. I don't—it was cold, so either the very beginning or very end of the year. He didn't fucking specify. Just that he was—" Lovino groaned. "That he was going after Alfred Jones."

"What! Why would he be after Al?" Feliciano looked extremely worried now.

"I don't fucking know—I just know that—" he cut himself off. "Oh fuck." Of course, this would pane out to be Lovino's fault, wouldn't it? "I—When you went missing I might have asked for his information?"

" _What_?" Feliciano drew. There was a serious look on his face, an accusation in his eyes. Lovino really didn't like that.

"I didn't know where the fuck you were! I thought that maybe he would have an idea or something! I—They didn't know anything, I ended up having to call your fucking dad—"

"You called my father to tell him I was missing?"

"No! To get Alfred's contact information."

"Lovino why—"

" _I didn't know what to do_ ," he practically cried. "You were missing and the only lead I had was some evasive fucking detective. How was I supposed to know that any of  _this_  would happen. I—I didn't know. I—" he cut himself off, emotions he didn't wish to recall climbing to his throat.

Feliciano ran a hand through newly disheveled hair. "Well—Okay. Gil?"

"Do you guys think that he's targeting Feliciano?" Ludwig asked.

"They found his location?" Gilbert muttered scrupulously. "Not with my technology they didn't."

"I don't know and Gilbert maybe your shit is flawed. All I know is that Anubis decided it was a good idea to fucking mention it, okay? Lawrence, Kansas, 1987, fucking Alfred Jones. All I fucking know."

"Lovi," Feliciano said with a small sigh. "Calm down, please."

"Calm down? You could fucking  _poof_ ," he imitated Gilbert's hand movements, "at any god damn moment! Don't tell me to fucking calm down!"

"Screaming won't do us any good," Feliciano pressed, a bit more forcefully. "We need a plan, not a tantrum."

"How are you—"

"Plan, Lovino." He sighed, softening his tone with a small smile and begging eyes. "Please, Lov, I—I'm kinda scared and really could use smart you, not angry you."

Lovino deflated in his defeat. "Yeah—Yeah, I guess."

"So, Gil, anything? Please tell me you have something."

The albino was looking up in his thoughts, nodding his head a little, rolling his tongue around as if he were acting on some stage and needed to make a show of  _thinking_. "Birth dates, the both of you."

"What?" The two asked simotaniously.

"Were either of you two born in or before 1987? Or 1988?" The both of them shook their heads. "Alright. Well, Lud and I didn't come around until the forties, so—"

"The forties!" Feliciano gawked. "But you—"

"2040s, Feli," he chuckled. "Thankfully we didn't have to live through the 1940s. Oh, that would have been a disaster."

"Wait, that means we're, like, forty years older than both of you," Feliciano seemed to be growing more uncomfortable the longer his finger sat accusingly in the air.

"Er, if you want to look at it that way, sure."

"Oh gosh," the boy muttered under his breath, throwing his eyes to the ground with a furious shake of his head. "Oh gosh."

"Okay, then," Gilbert blew. "Well, since neither of you two have already existed on the timeline during that time-period then I guess the plan of action is the most obvious one. We take Antonio out before he can take Alfred out."

"Wait, but I— _now_?"

"Do you rather wait?" Ludwig asked, lips tight.

"I haven't been able to fight the other two Neverborns! I can hardly control my powers—I can't even fight you three. And, no offense, but you guys don't exactly have an army of supernatural creatures at your disposal."

"Then what do you suggest?"

Lovino found himself biting at his thumb. He was really trying to stop doing it, but he was stuck between a fucking rock and a hard place. "I—Maybe—Well we could—"

"I'll go," Feliciano suddenly sobered. "If maybe I could keep him safe long enough for Lovino to do his thing, then maybe we could work everything out!"

"No, Fell," Lovino said quickly, "that's not—"

"I'll go with you," Ludwig said.

"And I'll stay with the PMSing demi-god," Gilbert agreed.

"What, no, I—" Lovino protested. "I—No!"

"Why not?"

"Yeah, and we'll keep communication."

"I—I just—" Lovino was quickly discovering that the rock was a god damn wrecking ball and the hard place was an ocean of acid that suddenly burst into his lungs, constricting his ability to speak properly.

"Three against one, Lovi," Feliciano chuckled.

"I don't remember this being a fucking democracy! No, no, Feliciano. If I can't fucking handle him, then obviously you and Ludwig can't! You're—You're all being—"

"Lovino, I don't want to see him to get hurt!"

"And I don't want to see you get hurt!" Lovino screamed. "I—I—" he clenched his jaw, scrubbing down his face once more. Fuck. In a calmer, quieter tone—one that was attempting not to erupt, but so much was happening all at once and he wasn't  _ready for it_ , he muttered, "I couldn't care less about this Alfred guy, Fell." And then he found himself wrapped in another stupid hug that told him that once again Feliciano was going to do whatever the hell he wanted no matter what anyone else said.

"Lovi, Al's been a part of my life since day one. Like you said, environment creates a person. He was a huge part of my environment. Without him I may not have even stayed in Kansas or taken the job I met you at. Lud and I can keep him safe while Gil finishes up your training! And like Ludwig said, we'll keep communication! I mean, I don't have my phone but I'm sure we can manage a way to annoy the living hell out of you, just like at home. Okay?"

The boy's laughter only made everything worse. Lovino knew that splitting up was never the right answer. Fuck, this wasn't Scooby Doo. Sure, they had a talking dog, but aside from that they were missing a few cast members! And Feliciano couldn't promise to keep up communication. There would be no thirty messages to yell at, no surprise calls or—Lovino rolled his eyes towards the sky, keeping his vision there as an agreement that caused a shiver of apprehension to crawl up his spine fumbled past his lips.

Stupid fucker! Lovino hated him! He was such an idiot, and he was willingly putting himself in fucking danger. Why couldn't Gilbert and Ludwig run off and play bodyguard? Why did Feliciano have to run off to play? Didn't he understand?

No, of course he didn't. Lovino never told him.

"Feli," he said as the boy was turning towards Ludwig with a big smile.

"Hmm?"

"You—Don't let your guard down. Anubis warned me that—I'm not the only one the gods are looking to kill."

The boy paused. "Okay, yeah," he said slowly. "What's one more thing to the list, hmm?" he said, brightening once again with a content sigh. "My bestfriend is on the path to become a god, my childhood hero is being hunted down by a mad man with an army, and gods might want me dead." He smirked at Lovino with a wink. "Sound like a regular Tuesday to me."

But there was something behind his demeanour. Lovino shook his head. R-N-H—"Right, now hurry very—it—right, left, for her!" Lovino shook his head, unable to keep a derisive chuckle from blowing out his nose. "You know I don't speak it."

Feliciano's gleaming, worriless face softened and Lovino couldn't bring himself to break the eye contact. "You need practice," he said quietly, just between them. His grin was back as he stretched his arms back. "Well, Lud'll be, like, fierce, intense. Youthful victims'll hide gutlessly. Kay?"

DO YOUR BEST. KAY?

Lovino shook his head. "I hate you."

"Love you too," he retorted without pause.

Ludwig cleared his throat. "Alright, so now all we have to do is figure out closer to the time that we should be looking towards. A whole year is a lot of room for mistake."

"I actually think I have an idea." Feliciano said. "If Antonio is really just going off of what he knows from police records, then it's likely that it's going to be the end of the year. There was this case that Alfred never solved—the disappearance of a young girl."

"I saw her!" Lovino interjected. "About yay-high, brunette, ponytail thing?"

Feliciano nodded. "That's her! How—"

"Anubis showed her to me. I—I think you might be right."

Feliciano smiled smally at his feet. "Maybe I can finally help him solve it," he said quietly to himself. Quickly he shook himself out of it. "Alright, then, November 1987—unless Anubis showed you a dead chil—"

"Very much alive."

"Good," he said with a nervous giggle. "Good! Well then. November!"

* * *

Lovino sighed as he and Gilbert made their way a bit further down their path. He was worried. Ludwig and Feliciano would have to go back to the Land Without Time to be able to get onto the String, as the clocks only worked from those two locations, but; he had a lot ahead of him and couldn't put too many of his efforts towards thinking about that. He would have to trust the two to fare for themselves. In the back of his mind he knew that they could, but it didn't keep the feeling of apprehension from his chest.

Gilbert quickened his steps about a corner, forcing Lovino to lengthen his own strides to keep up. It seemed the building they were on headed towards was a large, gothic-chapel looking stone structure. Great arches decorated the sides and roofs, and , from what Lovino could see as they walked up, there was a good deal of destruction that had been done to the whole exterior. Doors blasted open and now creaked eerily in the wandering winds, crumbling stone still trickled like rain, the roof waned under its own weight and looked a penny away from snapping and falling. Perhaps it was not built from stone, after all.

"Here we are!" Gilbert exclaimed with a wide flourish of his arms. "The old Bedlum Institute!"

"Bedlum Institute," Lovino inquired, a great unease now not only surrounding the appearance of the building but the notion of it as well. "An insane asylum?"

"Well, no, not exactly. We like to think of it more like a prison mixed with a university."

Lovino could not believe the tone that Gilbert was taking to as he was talking about this. "What do you mean you like to think of it like a prison mixed with—that makes no sense!" They stepped through the doors to find the ruined exterior was not totally alone in it's ruin, though the inside was nowhere near as bad. It almost seemed that it was time that had started away at the walls and floors—though of course that left Lovino to wonder if time was relevant  _here_. It opened to a large room that filtered into what Lovino could only assume to be an indoor court by its sheer size. Multiple doors and halls broke off of it. Lovino even caught sight of a restroom.

"Well, in a city of—er—outlaws, I guess you could call it that (though those are more Ludwig's words than mine; outlaws are pirates or something cool. I mean, sure these guys are—were—cool, but they could have taken my suggestion and become much cooler—I digress), but in a city of outlaws the people that control the people are the people. And so when people break the rules it's the established people that decide the punishment. Okay, I can see by your face that you're catching on."

"You  _experiment_ on people!"

Gilbert sighed, his excitement taking a backseat for just a moment. "Science will not ever thrive if people fear to let it. And sure, by moral standards its wrong, but morals don't mean shit in the grander aspects of things. If you want to succeed you need to weight the pros and cons."

Lovino mulled over the justification, but still couldn't find comfort in it. "But, what crime deems someone bad enough that they lose their humanity?"

"Depends on how badly an experiment is needed to be run," Gilbert said honestly. "It's dubious—"

"It's criminal!"

Gilbert sniggered. "Yeah, I guess that's true, but its also a necessity for growth. You of all people should understand that. Chaos is good for adapting just as experimentation is for advancement."

The brunet couldn't keep the frown from his voice. "You sound insane." The gleaming eyes and smirked smile only enhanced the albino's characteristic. "Did you ever—"

"Oh, no, I was too young. But they did let me sit in. It was interesting. I believe that it made a human's life mean more than what they do, really. To be able to create is the greatest honor a person can hold!"

"Even when it means destroying first?"

" _Especially_  if it means that it was built on destruction. You come from a time on the String that is very much about peace and love and acceptance. That's great and all, but it also makes it so that anyone trying to achieve anything has to waste most of their time just trying to appease the hippies. Those on the String got it in their head that the best way to grow is to do so on the foundation that was already laid down. Tell me, have you ever tried to plant a flower in the concrete?"

"No?"

"Precisely. You can't unless you break what was already there. And sometimes breaking things goes against established morals."

"But you're talking about a human life!"

"Devil's in the details, my friend. Gotta let it go."

Lovino shook his head as they walked down the court. Their voices echoed back at them through the emptiness, though upon finding themselves in a stairwell there was a comfortable padding along the walls that kept such things at bay. Actually, everywhere they went following the court seemed to be padded into silence.

As they made their way down the hall, passing by doors labeled with numbered B's and faceless names, the two of them were forced to pick their way around rubble.

"Fuck, I really hope they didn't take everything," Gilbert groaned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, gods attack and it's the apocalypse. Gotta stock up, you know?"

"People had time to do that?"

"Oh yeah. They were total assholes when they attacked. Let people have hope that they were going to survive before they attacked again. Alrighty, let's hope for the best!"

The both of them together were needed to pry the strange-materialled door from it's swollen place in the door way at B202 Braginsky. It snapped through the center with a deafening crack greedily eaten up by the padding along the walls and the carpet beneath their feet. Gilbert ran his foot through it until a hole large enough for them to crawl through was created.

Lovino didn't ask about the man-sized cage sitting in the corner of the rom, nor did he ask about the pile of slime covered bones sitting at the bottom of it.

There was a vast island in the center of the room with a long line of cupboards settled behind it. It looked as if no one had been in there at all, and there was no window to have let any attacks from the outside to matter. Gilbert let off a chuckled cheer as he tore behind the island and into the first cabinet.

"Yes! Yes!" he cheered. "It's all still here!"

"What is?" Lovino asked curiously, coming to settle at dusty table.

"Ivan's supplies. He was usually into neurology, but he dabbled in a few other sciences. He's actually the one that put together the genetic rye and potato farm in the basement. Saved everyone a lot of trouble when it came to feeding the population. I'll show it to you sometime." Gilbert pulled out a small box, similar in shape and size to Feliciano's old DVD player but with large screws seeming to stick out from atop of it, before turning around and pulling out an assortment of wires. He proceeded from there to shuffle about until he found a microscope (though Lovino had never seen such a rendition) and a key that let him to a cupboard filled with what he cooed to be chemicals (though he was visibly distraught to find that most of them had expired).

With beakers and strange powders and a long light all set up in stations on the table, Gilbert administered wires where they were needed and paused, backing up with an accomplished smile on his face. "You beautiful madman," he whispered to himself before flipping on the switch to the original box—what Lovino soon realized to be a small generator—and pulling a pair of safety glasses from the mess of his hair and making sure the gloves he had found was secure.

"Alright, Lovino, if you would just hand over the stone this shouldn't take long."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Ahh, this chapter makes me miss writing original novels._

_Honestly, I'm surprised none of you guys have yelled at me for the pure lack of effort into everything I name. Land with no Time, Renegade, clocks and watches, the fucking Order. You guys should demand more creativity from me tbh xD_

COMMENT! Which style do you like more, Gothic or Steampunk? (So, like, think Corpse Bride vs Number 9 or Hunchback of Notre Damn vs *insert popular Steampunk novel*) LilyofFire was saying that it'd be cool to see an itacest rendition of Corpse Bride, and honestly can someone fucking make that happen?


	34. Trente-Quatre

"What the fuck is that?" Lovino asked, ignoring how the albino's hair had gone a strange shade of pink in the front, only joined by the dusted pink over his skin. His question was pointed to the device in his hand as he moved onto the next experiment.

"String time isn't relevant here and does anything but correspond with this world, but I guess you could call this a thing of time. We use it for measuring."

"What are you talking about?" Lovino asked. The albino handed over the device. Lovino could only blink at all the optioned buttons that appear. On the screen were almost three dozen separate numbers counting up. The main set, to which Lovino only knew to be the main by the fact that it was the biggest and the slowest, seemed to peel upwards at painstakingly slow speeds. The smaller the set of numbers, the quicker they ticked away.

"Time can be a lot like gravity in the sense that it depends on where exactly you are, or what you are. So, to get a measurement we have to set it to an absolute to time against. It doesn't really matter which one you choose as long as you know which formulas tie into it."

"It's going really slow. What do you have it set to?"

"The half-life of radium."

Lovino furrowed his brows as he handed back the device. "But, wouldn't radium's half life be determined by it's place on a planet or whatever?"

"No, that's time. How many times your planet orbits the sun or whatever, that's time. This is absolute. It doesn't count on anything  _but_  the thing it's absoluting. When the big number there gets to eighteen million, then it tells me that it's at the half-life of radium."

"Then what's the eighteen million absolute to? What is that measuring against?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I stopped paying attention when I was given the formula and end number. The rest can be left for the theorists." He grumbled something as he put the stone onto the table. He had attempted to chisel at it earlier, but it seemed indestructible. No amount of acids or whatever fucking concoctions were still bubbling blue and yellow and clear on the back counter seemed to cause it to react. Just a green jagged stone. Lovino refused Gilbert the option of nuclear fission. Gilbert was still pouting.

Lovino sighed, pulling on gloves of his own and grabbing at it. "So, you have nothing?" he asked.

"All I have is that it's letting off a powerful energy, but that makes sense for a resurrection stone. Nothing seems peculiar."

"But you said—"

"Yeah, but what do I remember from when I was a kid!" He took off his hand and eye equipment to rub his eyes. "It seems different, but how you're going to use it to absorb a Neverborn is your guess just as well as it is mine."

Lovino frowned. "So, do we do some field experimentation, then?"

"Looks like that's going to be our only option."

Lovino really wasn't too thrilled to be jumping back into a fight. The salve had warn off and his body hurt with every slight movement. Gilbert seemed to notice as they were picking their stuff up.

"We might have some heroin—"

"No, Gilbert." Lovino grunted.

"I'll run and check the medical wing, then. Stay here." The pink albino was crawling out the door before Lovino could protest. Alone the brunet allowed the pain to reach his features with a light hiss. The bandages around his body had become stained, the outer layer a crusted brown while a slimy underlayer tried to pull the fabric into him. He had received two stitches, but it seemed one had come undone during all the commotion. He just hadn't felt it.

He fucking did now.

Leaning against the island, half on his stool, half slid off of it, Lovino took a long moment to just stew in the silence and his own pulse. That was until a strange sound came from the hallway. He paused. His breath stuck to his lungs and he listened intently. The only thing that came back to him was silence. He shook his head, releasing his breath and feeling like an idiot.

Until another sound from the hallway came about; this time closer.

In the corner of his eye and the back of his mind Lovino could see the human-sized cage and body. The shivers trekking along his body suddenly demanded whether ghosts existed. A place of human experimentation would be the perfect place for vengeful spirits, wouldn't it? And, sure, Lovino had never believed in ghosts—but there was a lot he hadn't believed in and look at him now, damn it. There was a fucking god of the Underworld, wasn't there? Wait—if someone was  _off the grid_  did they pass onto the afterlife? What if it was a cruel punishment, to be trapped here?

A pale face poked through the door and Lovino screamed.

"Whoa, what the hell?" Gilbert grunted, rubbing the back of his head as the suddenness of Lovino's shrilled cry had caused him to hit his head.

"What the fuck man?" Lovino demanded, attempting to calm his pulse.

"You're the one screaming like a sissy."

"Oh, shut up."

"Why were you even screaming?"

Lovino frowned. He could already feel his own mockery heating up his neck—though that could also be a fever caused by the possible infection in his chest. Wait—what kind of fucking germs had he encountered since he had been here? No one had ever given him a shot.  _How wasn't he dead_?

_If he died now would he be a ghost?_

"Lovino, you really gotta calm the hell down," Gilbert decided, putting his hands on the brunet's shoulders with a scrutinizing stare.

Lovino just blinked at him. "I—Sorry, I don't feel too well," he admitted, willing away the paranoia that still clenched his body. He had never read about paranoia being a part of fevers or infections, but fuck it at this point, right?

He sighed, taking in the armful Gilbert had brought in with him. "What'd you get?"

"Well, they were out of practically everything, but I think you'll live with these."

"Hooray," Lovino groaned dramatically, working his shirt off despite every movement causing the burns on his arms to scream out in protest.

Gilbert looked over them with an interested sigh. "I really thought I was going to take off an arm."

Lovino rolled his eyes, flinching back as a powdery salve was suddenly slapped onto the wound. Gilbert certainly was one for theatrics rather than practical clemency. "Well, thanks for  _not doing that_ ," he spat.

"Try to kill my brother for a third time and I promise you that it'll be your head that rolls." Another slap of salve. Lovino grit his teeth.

"Is that why he still fucking hates me?" Lovino ground.

"Well, you don't just point a gun at people and expect them to trust you the next day."

"He's still on about that?"

Gilbert fixed him with a look that Lovino could only compare to a baffled mother not sure whether to punish or lecture their child. In the end he just sighed. With a pair of scissors, he cut the bandages. Lovino looked away, not all that keen for the sight of his own body being pulled away. "There's a shallowness in distrust," Gilbert was saying as he shuffled through his things, finding multiple metal staple-like inventions. He pinched the skin of Lovino's chest until the bit with the torn stitch was together again before digging the metal claws into place. Lovino gasped, biting his tongue to keep from crying out. "Ludwig's always been a sensitive one. He was too young to really remember Mom and Dad's death, but he wasn't too young to swear that he would never trust a non-human entity ever again. Sensitive but smart. He knew that the gods and Confraternity were just as much out enemy as the things we foot soldiers are sent out to arrest. It's hard to gain his trust, and when you lose it I'm pretty sure it's impossible to get it back. I've certainly never seen it happen."

"If you distrust them so much, why the hell do you keep working for them."

"I imagine it's for the same reason Feliciano stuck around."

Lovino blinked, furrowing his brow. "To offer someone a second chance?"

Gilbert sent him another, almost bemused, curious glance. "You really do underestimate him, don't you?"

"I—Fuck, be more careful!"

"Ludwig is smart, but he's too uptight to do anything with it. Feliciano is smart in a totally different way. He obviously understands people more than he does science; and he understands them pretty fucking well. I've never seen Ludwig run around like a lost puppy before." Gilbert let out a hiss of laughter, pulling the needle through Lovino's skin. "I asked him why he stayed, and he played the answer I'm sure you got, that he wanted to help. No second chances, but just to help. And it played with his character well. He was always asking questions. How the world worked, what was happening, what was wrong, what was in my notebook, whatever. He talks a lot."

Lovino grunted his agreement through the pain.

"But it's his curiosity that gave him away. He didn't stay to help anyone except himself."

Lovino shook his head. "No, you don't get it. That's Feliciano. He's an idiot that puts others before himself. His curiosity just comes with him also being nosy as fuck."

Gilbert was laughing again. "You really are dumb aren't you? Think of it like this: there some alien power controlling the universe and you find out about it. You have the choice to go back to normal life and live with the knowledge that there is this power, but be equally perceptible to them as before with no further information other than  _they exist_ ; or, you can somewhat join them and at least be updated as to what is happening. Which do you choose?"

"I—Obviously the second option. But that doesn't—"

"I think Feliciano was smart enough to think that through. Even through all the chaos he put the most practical option into motion. It's kind of awesome. But do you know isn't awesome?"

"Gentle!"

"The fact that you didn't tell  _any_  of us about any of this."

Why did Lovino surround himself with passive-aggressive assholes? "I wasn't planning on using the stone or becoming a god or anything. And all that Antonio going after Alfred is shit I just learned so you can't hold that over me."

"A god, Lovino. You were given the option to become a god. Did you ever think that maybe you should  _tell someone_? Did Arthur know?"

"No."

"So, no one knew?"

"I told you! I didn't want to go through with it. Just because someone tells you to do something doesn't mean you have to do it."

"But you should trust your friends enough to maybe give them the option to help you think it through."

Lovino swallowed at that. Feliciano certainly was his friend—or maybe he was just a manipulative bitch like Gilbert was saying (Gilbert was probably right)—but Gilbert and Ludwig? Ludwig took pride in beating the shit out of him and Gilbert, though a much better companion, conversationalist at the least, seemed to only be around in passing. Circumstantial acquaintances. The moment Lovino had the option to leave them behind for something more peaceful he certainly would. Wouldn't he?

Yeah. He would.

"We're all on the same side. Leaving us blind hurts us just as much as it hurts you. Because, guess what. If you would have maybe offered me this information earlier, I would have maybe been able to figure something out. And I'm sure Feliciano could have figured out a way to get Arthur on our side rather than betraying us at the last minute. Seriously, Lovino."

"Okay, so I'm a fucktard. I can't do anything about that no—ow!"

"You're right. You can't. Ludwig and I have been jumping through hoops to keep our fucking job until there was something stable to flee to. You've thrown a wrench in that plan. We don't know where Antonio is, we don't know what's happening with the String—we're as blind as the humans on Earth!"

Lovino didn't have anything to bite back at him. He was right. Still, part of Lovino yelled at him, telling him that he wasn't in the wrong because  _how was he supposed to know_? He was stumbling through all of this, damn it! People don't just get torn out of everything they know and adapt flawlessly! Unless they're fucking Feliciano, but it was seeming that he was a god damn alien himself, so Lovino would curse his name later.

Gilbert tied up the bandage with a sigh. He seemed to have blown his steam. "Shit happens, and you're right, we can't fix what has happened. Just, in the future, please consider trusting us. My brother may not be the fondest of you, but you can trust him. And Feliciano has already showed you his loyalty by now, I'm sure. If we're going to all make it through of this alive, we need communication. I'll tell you everything I know, and all I ask for in return is that you do the same."

The albino pulled out a syringe then and quickly pressed it into Lovino's stomach. Lovino gasped as it was pulled out. "What the hell was that?"

"Pain killers."

"And you didn't think about giving me that  _before_ —"

"Oh, I certainly thought about it," he laughed. Lovino groaned. "You know, I was actually surprised that you hadn't told Feli about the whole god thing."

"There's a lot I don't tell him."

"You've had gay dreams about David Bowie from The Labyrinth too?"

"Excuse me?"

"We weren't heading towards the Gay Bowie Dreams conversation?"

"I don't think that's a conversation we will ever head towards, Gilbert."

"Well, maybe you should pay better attention next time you watch The Labyrinth. Those tights—"

"Gilbert!"

"His strut, and that  _hair_?"

"I am never watching that movie again."

"You won't need to. It will hunt you down and watch you."

"Gilbert! I am not gay!"

"I'm not saying you are. I'm just saying that there's potential for anything when Bowie's involved."

"I'm really starting to understand why you don't have more friends."

The albino's grin and playful demeanor let on that he didn't take anything Lovino said personally, which was good, because Lovino was finding that he didn't mean it. Maybe he could consider this psychopath as a friend. What other options did he have?

"If Bowie is why I don't have friends, what's your excuse?"

It was a joke.

A really funny fucking joke.

"Probably the fact that I'm still fucking your mom to this day. Two extra holes, baby."

"That's fucking sick," Gilbert hollered through his laughter. "I love it."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "You're a fucking psychopath."

"Takes one—"

"Yeah, yeah. Is there anywhere I can go to rest? The god damn pain killers aren't kicking in, damn it."

Gilbert sobered a small amount. "There might be somewhere with a bed, unless your cool with some blankets and the floor."

"Does the hospital ward not have cots?"

"Sure, but let me ask you this: how many bodies is  _too_  many bodies when you decide to kick back?"

Lovino sighed. "The floor it is, then. And, one, by the way. Is there any room without—" he motioned towards the cage with his head.

"Does Freddy bother you?" Gilbert laughed.

"Freddy?"

The albino led the way towards the door and out the hall. "Yeah, he was Ivan's favorite. Then again, anyone with Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease would have been Ivan's favorite."

"What did—what did he do to him?"

"I promised you honesty. You said you wanted to sleep?"

Lovino clenched his jaw and offered his answer through silence.

They were able to find a room without too much rubble and broken glass, and Gilbert even managed a few sleeping bags and jackets out of the deal. They set up camp. Gilbert didn't stick around long, though, before he was up and running off to go and find something to eat. Lovino was left to frown at the ceiling above him. He wouldn't be able to eat for years, he was sure.

When Gilbert returned, he cooed about the running water in room B113, though he warned that a shower under the emergency shower would probably be close to scalding and not to use it until he was able to track down the water heater and turn it down. He offered Lovino a box of crackers, but he turned them away.

"I promise that they're not laced with anything. I made sure." Gilbert said sincerely.

"I'm not hungry."

"You're not going to heal unless you eat."

Lovino shoved his face into a stranger's weathered apparel. "Thanks, Mom," he drew.

"You're welcome, deary."

"I said  _mom_ , not wolf from  _Red Riding Hood_." Gilbert was laughing away again, off to be of more use than Lovino, but Lovino stopped him. "Hey, so—er—are ghosts, uh, real?"

"Sure."

"They're not—like— _here_  though, right? Should I be expecting to wake up dead or something?"

"Oh, yeah, there's ghosts all over this place."

Lovino shot his gaze up. "Are you being serious?'

Red orbs rolled. "No. Ghosts are just the remanding energy people have when they have lost the energy to live. It takes a lot of energy to keep these meat suits going, you know? When one loses dictation over their body they got straight to the Afterlife until their energy runs out altogether. Dissipates and becomes something else. Never to be created, never to be destroyed."

"So, then how does a resurrection stone work?" Lovino asked skeptically.

Gilbert just gave him a little  _how else_ shrug. "It takes the energy from elsewhere and gives it to the desired entity. In theory, it could even be seen as an immortality stone. You'd just have to keep killing people and stealing their life energy and giving it to yourself. Don't worry, though. As far as I know there's only two in existence. And I guess this one—but obviously this one's tampered with. Soiled goods."

Lovino relaxed a bit. "How do you guys know all this stuff? About Chaos and the world. You're from Earth, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but like I said before, there was a school here. It was for kids of Confraternity and foot-soldiers. They told us everything we'd need to know to do our jobs proficiently—so, of course, Lud and I were never in a class with many Confraternity asses, but that was alright. They were snobs, really."

"Was that what your notebook was full of? Shit you learned from them?"

"Nah. The texts are written by the Confraternity, so they're extremely flawed. My notes were what we  _weren't_ told or what we were misinformed on. This little detail of a possibility to become a god is surely going in there when I get my notebook back."

Lovino blinked. "But you had notes about Chaos in there. But, I've never seen you before. What was all that with the statue and whatever?"

"In the texts we learned that The Warp was a mistake and that she was too powerful. There was little to no information on her Golden Mean, on what actually happened, or how she affected anything beyond the String. They don't even  _mention_  the Neverworld. But, Arthur knew a whole lot. I don't know how, but he did. It was why the Order put him in charge of your case."

"Was it the Order or was it Anubis?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Couldn't tell you. Everything I know is what Arthur told me—and what little I gathered from philosophy and other Earthly studies."

Lovino sighed. "Why the hell did Arthur betray us, then?"

"He's a part of the Confraternity in the end. I don't blame him. Don't trust him, but I understand his reasonings, I guess. No use dwelling on all that shit, now, though. Hurry up and get better so we can figure all this out before your friend and my brother find a way to get themselves killed, though."

"What happened to—"

"I'm leaving. Shut up and rest."

Lovino watched him go through the fabric. After a while everything become foggy and wonderfully numb. Lovino drearily recognized the potential these drugs held as a crutch, and quickly promised not to get hooked on them. Off as soon as he could fight without them. If he had that kind of time, that was. In reality, he should be heading off the second he woke up. They weren't making any progress in the lab. If they were going to figure anything out, they would have to go to the Neverworld and try it out themselves.

Lovino drifted off to thoughts of dark figures and flying axes. Not the most comforting visions, but his body was heavier than his mind, and the thought of just drifting away suddenly became the best thing he could possibly thing of.

* * *

Lovino awoke to a sharp pain running up his side. He groaned out, grabbing at the offending area and sitting up. After a long moment it went away.

He was alone in their little camp, though it was a lot different than it had been when he fell asleep. Not only that, but looking down onto his arms he found the burns were white and scarred over. He tore the bandages from his chest to find that the metal clamps had been removed and an ugly red star-like area blemished the skin, but no longer looked like it was about to tear open or puss.

He quickly stood, a bit worried by how easy the feat was, and found himself in the hallway. As he had suspected, he found Gilbert in Ivan's room.

"How long have I been asleep?" he demanded.

Gilbert looked up from what he was doing with a start. "Oh, fuck." He subconsciously seemed to look over to the back counter. A pretty assortment of still-packaged needles sat in an array.

"Have you been  _drugging me_?" Lovino demanded.

Gilbert made a strange sound as put down what he was doing and removed the glasses from his face. "It was to speed up the healing process. If you were running around in between naps, I'm sure you'd still be bleeding."

"Gilbert, there are  _boundaries_  in real life. You can't go administering drugs to people without their knowledge! How long was I out?"

"I don't know, I didn't have the clock going."

"How many shots have you—" he keeled over as the sharp pain in his stomach returned. He stumbled forward to rest against the island. "Fuck, I think you killed my god damn kidney!"

"No, that's just a short-lived side effect. Promise, it's a drug that's been tested plenty."

" _That makes me fucking feel better_ ," Lovino snapped at him.

"As it should. You'll have some gastral pain, but it will pass. How do you feel?"

"Like fucking killing you?"

"Well, put  _that_  out and thank me. Because of me you were able to heal nicely with little to no side effects and without having to gruel through the whole process."

"It's probably been months! Have you even heard from Feliciano and Ludwig?"

"Months and whatever aren't relevant here, as you've been told countless times. And, no, I haven't. I'm sure they're doing just fine, though."

"How does no communication make you draw the conclusion that they're alright!"

"It doesn't, but me trusting them to figure it out does. If something truly bad happens, I can promise you that Ludwig will figure out a way to get back to us."

"So, we're waiting for word of truly bad?" Lovino's head felt like it was in a million places. The safety of the others, the betrayal of Gilbert's actions, the hunger and sharp pains in his stomach, the needles and the device Gilbert seemed to be constructing. It didn't help that his head still felt grogged-over, either.

"No, we're waiting for you to be well enough to do  _our_  part of this mission. Leave them to theirs until ours is done."

Lovino slammed his fist onto the island. "Then I'm fucking ready to go!"

Gilbert grinned. "Awesome."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_This chapter was going to be published yesterday, but then I thought to myself:_

Today's chapter could just say

**This story has been discontinued**

_And then I laughed my ass off for three and a half years. In the end I needed to walk away, and I wanted to fix my schedule to update in the morning rather than the middle of the day, so I guess two birds one stone._

COMMENT! Which character do you think has crossed the most boundaries in this story? It's a story of fun adventure and friendship, but our characters do have some major flaws. The question is: whose flaws are the worst? And why is Ludwig so flat (spoiler, this is still Lovi's POV and he's a jealous ass before he's observant, let's be honest)?


	35. Trente-Cinq

It was a slow process, but Lovino was able to get ahold of his thoughts after a long while. Gilbert shoved another box in his hands. He didn't even look over the contents to see what they were (or sniff them to make sure that they weren't poisoned) before putting the new substance in his mouth. Like the last, it was dry and grainy and held no flavor, but he didn't really care. They eat, they do one last round to make sure Lovino wasn't going to kill himself if he got hit in his condition, and then they leave.

_We do our part of the mission and let them do theirs._

It was an infuriating thought. Not because it wasn't true or because it had lost credibility somewhere, but because it meant that the worry in Lovino's gut wasn't called for. It meant that this sensation controlling his frown and his thoughts was as stupid as he was finding himself to be.

Feliciano manipulated people to get what he wanted. He would cry to gain sympathy, he would talk in a million directions to hide what he was saying, he would drown someone with attention when he was feeling lonely. He always got what he wanted.

Lovino was just a casualty of that war. A casualty stuck between in-the-know and completely lost, because he just didn't understand, but he was fully aware of the loss his chest thrummed with and images his head played through. Under it all, though, was the logic that told him he was an idiot—because of course he was a god damn idiot. He was trying to find fucking sentiment in the center of hell. A hero-complex, perhaps; maybe even just a loosely-strung goal to keep himself motivated.

If only his heart would listen to the words he fed it. Because, fucking-a, would it be nice if he could focus properly. At least he wasn't stupidly poetic enough to think something stupid like everything felt darker without Feliciano beside him or that—

FUCK.

"Okay, Gil, are we ready? I feel full and ready and can we please fucking stop eating crackers in silence?"

"You looked caught up with whatever you were thinking about, so I didn't want to disturb you," the other yawned at him, stretching back until the front legs of his stool hovered off the ground.

"Please, disturb away."

"Alright, well the stone should be clean enough to not burn you upon contact, and I think my thing should work."

"Your thing?"

"Yeah, well I didn't really have the time to grab my shit on the way here, so I had to improvise a new weapon with the junk around here." The blond laughed. "You didn't think that I was going to make you fight those things on your own, did you? This isn't training, anymore. I mean," he sighed, pulling at one of his eyes, "it would be grand if you could train a bit longer, but I guess we're going to have to improvise those two."

"With anger and despair I've gotten good enough to at least identify them when they get out of control," Lovino tried, though he only really half believed himself. "I'm sure the other two will be easier given my experience so far."

Gilbert chuckled. "You make it sound like these things are things to asphyxiate and shove in a trunk to be stored in the attic. Lovino, anger and despair are generalized titles. They mean a lot more than that."

"I know, but it's easier to control them when I feel like each one has their own little category. Umbrella, if you want."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Lovino frowned. Had he missed something? Sure, they all had something more than the title, but they  _were_  their titles. It what made anger so predictable and despair from raising his own fists…wasn't it?

The albino struck him in between the shoulder blade. Lovino grunted, shooting him a dirty look. Gilbert just smiled at him. "Stone, invention, and you won't die. Alright, are we ready?"

Lovino grabbed up the stone that was in the middle of the island and Gilbert secured the metal arm brace he had been fixing together. It strapped around his body, encasing his hand with a metal glove that creaked when he moved his fingers.

"No safety glasses?" Lovino teased as the blond put his invention's forefinger to his watch.

"Ah, what Lud doesn't know certainly won't kill him."

"Might kill you."

"If I'm offed by my own invention, then I'm technically offed by myself. Which makes me the ultimate winner."

"And loser."

"Half empty half full."

A bright light scattered away Ivan's office and brought the two of them to a part of the Neverworld Lovino had never seen before. It was neither swamp nor jungle. Lovino blinked outwards towards the sea they found themselves on the rocks from. "Gilbert," he said slowly.

The albino turned from his started journey up the rocks. "Yeah?"

"Do you know where the Neverborns are?"

"No clue. I'm sure we'll stumble on one—unless you caught Arthur's coordinates by some chance."

Breathe in and count to ten. It worked in movies. "How large is the Neverworld?"

"Ah, don't think about that. Come on, we have a lot of ground to cover."

Lovino didn't know that the Neverworld had rain, but he certainly did now.

Slipping over slick rocks and fending the pinned winds with his arm and hand, Lovino followed the other up the shore. Thankfully a familiar batch of trees came to meet them half a mile or so into their journey, which helped fend off the downpour, but equally unfortunate as fortunate, the trees they found themselves under housed a great deal of creatures Lovino was not in the mood to be met by. A falling bird-snake-thing fell onto his shoulder and was two inches away from swallowing his head with an unhinged beak-jaw filled with sharp teeth when Lovino punched it off of him with a manly shriek. With a kick it found its place and slithered away, but Lovino couldn't keep his eyes from above the rest of the way.

Which, of course, didn't help him when he stepped into a patch of quicksand filled with stickers and Russian vines.

"What the hell are you doing?" Gilbert demanded.

"I—Trying to fucking relax so I don't sink!" Lovino screamed back, finding the bubbling muck around him suddenly to his chest.

"Stop using Earth logic. This isn't quicksand!" Gilbert beat his hands into the patch, his device holding onto each grain. Suddenly Lovino the ground rose from Lovino's feet and he was forced back onto solid ground. A huge head-like plant rose, sand falling from it as it rose like a brown and black waterful, before it was snapping at them. Gilbert wound his mechanical arm back and punched it. It stumbled back, giving Gilbert enough time to turn on his device and shoot what Lovino could only describe as a fireball at it. The creature whined and sunk back into the dirt.

Gilbert helped the brunet to his feet. "If you could maybe help fight, that would be great."

"What kind of Neverborn was that?"

"It wasn't. It's part of the wildlife."

Lovino brushed himself off with a sighed "fucking great."

Their journey trekked on. Lovino was growing tired of being so on-guard, and he felt like they had found themselves walking in circles. It wasn't long until their muttered conversation turned to fighting, either. The fights would cut off and they would be cool as they fought off a string of bats together and Gilbert would laugh and coo about the thrill, but then they would be walking and the grouchiness of the situation would settle in and the pair would argue and groan and make fun of one another's ancestry or the like.

Lovino found himself stopping with a groan. "Seriously, Gilbert, I'm sick of walking blind."

" _I'm sorry_ ," Gilbert said from his shoulder. "You should have told me early. I'll just check my map."

"How is it that you've been here so much but don't know your way around!"

"Easy; I'm not an angsty twelve-year-old that needs to work out my hormonal problems."

"Oh, take your insults and shove them up your ass. It's not going to get you anywhere."

"And your bitching will?"

"Fuck you."

"Clever. Glad to finally see your intellect shining through."

" _Boys_ ," a sudden voice hissed from above them.

Lovino found his first weapon of anger and Gilbert's arm whirred to life. The two scanned the treetops above them. Everything fell silent for a long moment, nothing but the constant drops of rain until: " _Boys_."

"Who's there?" Lovino demanded taking his hilt with both hands.

" _Put away your weapons."_

"Show yourself!" Gilbert countered.

After another long moment, Lovino and Gilbert shared a hesitant glance. They came to a consensus and Lovino's sword dropped as Gilbert's arm died back into silence. Another long bout of nothingness before a loud cackling, hissed—different from Gilbert's in the way that it was echoed and deeply throaty—started overhead. Long enough and loud enough for the two to be able to pinpoint it's source. A squat shadow watched them from a branch high above.

"Who are you?" Lovino demanded.

"I am Lanze, the one who sees all." The squat shadow revealed itself to be a squat crow-like creature. Only, it seemed that its head held dozens of eyes that all blinked without rhythm or synchronization. "I have been watching you bicker and fight, and I think that I can help you."

Lovino fixed it with a glare, but it was Gilbert that voiced the concern. "For what price?"

"Oh, no price at all," the bird cawed.

Lovino could have almost laughed himself. "What do you want?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just to help two lost travels find their way to the retched ones."

"The who?" Gilbert asked.

"The last four Neverborns. They are nothing but a nuisance, believing that they control this world." The blink-blink-blinking was unnerving. "If it is them you are looking for, then I will help you. And in return all I ask is that you use that pretty stone in your pocket  _to help me_."

Lovino could feel the tension in his jaw as he looked over to Gilbert once again. The albino seemed to be musing a similar line of questions as Lovino, though Lovino knew there were a few queer ones mixed in the bunch that Lovino would never consider questioning. Finally, a red gaze fixed him with an answer. "You'll take us to Khorne?"

"If that is who you wish to meet first, of course I will, Lovino."

"How do you know my name?"

The bird flew from its perched place on the branch, swirling around the brunet with its cackles. "I see all. I see all. I see all!" And then it was flying away. "Follow me!"

The two ducked branches and rammed their shoulders into trunks, but neither of them were given the opportunity to stop because the bird with a million eyes—Lanze, did it say?—didn't slow himself. It was troublesome, and here and there the pair would pause and shout to one another "did you see where he's gone?" "I think he went this way!" "There, over there!" And then they would be off to their panted runnings and jumpings and ignorings of the bruises that would form in the morning.

The murk of the swamp caused Lovino to slip and almost fall when he jumped into it, mud splashing up his pants, but it also caused him to chuckle with relief. "I think we're almost there," he told Gilbert.

The bird disappeared and reappeared and twirled around the pair as they got closer. Lovino only slowed his steps when he could see the cave he had visited enough times before. He and Gilbert stopped to catch their breaths.

"Anything I should know?" Gilbert asked, flicking on his arm.

Lovino thought for a long moment before nodded. "Oh, yeah, you can't hit him."

"What?"

"He feeds off violence. You can't hit him or else he gets stronger."

Gilbert nodded. "Alright, so we'll stick to projectiles, then."

Lovino nodded. He had wondered why Arthur's and Gilbert's weapons always worked against him when he was using his weapon of anger. He had never grown stronger from a hit, so perhaps they found a way around such things. Or maybe Lovino was just too weak. Whatever it was really didn't matter now.

Lovino called forth his reflection sword, but the bird was on his, picking at his hand, a million black and brown beady eyes blink-blink-blinking. "Put away the sword!" he cackled.

Lovino shook him off. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Away!" the demand came with a sharp bite, causing Lovino to drop the sword and hiss.

"Okay, fucker!" he yelled, taking a swing at the air as the bird jumped and circled.

"The stone! The stone!"

Lovino fished out the object in question. "So, uh—" Gilbert said, turning off his arm before the leery stare from Lanze turned into an attack as well (though it was hard to tell what exactly Lanze was looking at to begin with).

"Do you know how to use this?" Lovino asked.

"You will figure it out," Lanze cackled.

So, the two of them pushed forward, neither feeling comfortable without their weapons, but both knowing it would take less than a second to activate them. Lovino already felt exhausted from the long journey and healing wounds and also took solace in the fact that at least he had a teammate this time.

As per usual, Lovino stopped outside of the cave when he heard movement. He swallowed, holding the stone tightly with a staggered stance that would allow him to fight. The orange and red creature appeared, but his axe was not in hand.

"She did not lie," was what he said. Lovino blinked, taken aback. "You are alive."

The large beast emerged, and to make everything a little worse, a little more confusing, he took a deep bow in he murk. Lovino staggered backwards as a wave threatened to topple him. "I—I—" his words tied around his tongue, and he looked to Gilbert and Lanze for something of an attempt at an answer. Where was the swinging axe and anger? What the fuck was this?

Recollecting his sense, Lovino cleared his throat. He put out his hand and opened his hand, the stone sitting jagged and pure in his palm. If Khorne was going to just sit there, he ought to learn how the fuck the stone worked, no? Khorne rose from his position, causing Lovino to once again back away. A large hand fell to his own, picking up the stone. He did not  _seem_  angry. Quiet. "It it be your will."

The large Neverborn was strangely decorated, but the strangest part that Lovino had seen was the strange symbol painted on his armor plate. It was there that he placed the stone. The stone lit an errie green, but to make everything that much stronger Khorne screamed out in what Lovino could only name to be pure agony. The light seemed to play through his body like a flood, cascading out his mouth and eye sockets. The light became so intense that both Lovino and Gilbert were forced to look away.

And then it all stopped. Lovino turned back just in time to see the stone plop into the mud. Khorne's vibrant colors had faded to grey and he was stiff, neither socket held and eye and instead looked scratched, two forever voids in a statue. He tipped and fell into the water. The impact caused a good deal of him to crumble away.

Lovino and Gilbert could only stare.

Lanze was on Lovino's shoulder, dropping the dirty stone into his hand. Green and jagged and seemingly the same; only, Lovino could feel a strange power emitting from it. Stronger than before.

"How do you feel?" Gilbert asked.

"I—No different." Lovino admitted wearily. The stone had taken the energy from Khorne, and it seemed that it was the stone that was containing it.

"All four of the retched ones must be absorbed," Lanze cawed gleefully in Lovino's ear. Lovino shooed him away.

The bird was up and swarming and flying away again.

Lovino stared down at the stone. "It doesn't feel right," he said, to himself or to Gilbert he didn't care.

It was still Gilbert that responded. "I couldn't imagine how becoming a god is supposed to feel."

Lovino shook his head, securing the stone in his pocket once more. "Not like this, I don't think."

"Do you want to stop."

"We—I can't." No, because Feliciano's life was on the line, and if Anubis was telling the truth then maybe the String, too, was on the line. Fuck, it was too much for Lovino. He didn't want to have to worry about any of this. "If the gods can destroy a whole world of traitors," he mused bitterly, "then it was keeping them from taking out Antonio?"

"They are cowards, afraid of the  _Hollows_."

"Do  _Hollows_  pose that much of a threat to them?"

"Not as much as they're letting on, if they are trying to send you out. But, they were never ones to put their lives on the line for much of anything. It's why they have human foot-soldiers. Expandable, that's what they'll sacrifice, lives that are expandable."

"But if they don't do anything the String will be destroyed and then they'll all be dead? They refuse to fight at all?"

"They've successfully got you to run around and do their dirty work, haven't they?" Gilbert chuckled mockingly.

Lovino frowned. "What would happen if they were to all die? To disappear?"

Gilbert sat in a pensive state of silence then. "They're the ones to control the String," he said lowly. "No other being had the power to."

"So, without gods there would be no life at all?"

"No unless there was a power with the ability to control it."

They shared a long moment, staring forward at the fallen Neverborn. "Would you be able to create something with that type of power."

Lovino knew that Gilbert wouldn't deny trying or thinking on it. "It's possible. But in the time between no god and creation it might be too late."

"What would you need?"

"A power source and—is this really the time to be discussing this?"

"The gods control everything, but like you said they are nothing. If we can live without them, why don't we? Why don't we allow everything free will? Why don't—"

"Lovino," Gilbert snapped, breaking from a passivity to a abrupt sternness, "you don't understand what you're implying!"

"I do. I'm implying that maybe instead of keeping everyone in the dark, maybe instead of putting lives at the will of powered-up fucktards there should be an actual balance. Imagine what people could do with the information here. What they could create!"

"Since when do you give a fuck about creating?"

"I really don't," Lovino admitted, "but I do know that I don't feel comfortable being controlled by those fuckers that can't even put their necks on the line to save themselves. They don't belong in power! If we can live without this—this dictation then we fucking should."

"Then stop here, don't become a fucker yourself."

Lovino shook his head. "I—I can't stop now, Gilbert."

"Why?"

"Because if I don't become a god then Feliciano will die." It was different, hearing the declaration in his head and setting it against the one on his head. He could mull it over for days and feel a bit perturbed, but this, in the air, made it real. It caused his heart to quicken and an acid to settle. He could feel his gut expand and see the smoke twirling around his palms, ready to be morphed.

"You're as selfish as the gods, you know?"

"Which is the reason that I offer you the place of power. I don't want it. Kill me off when I'm done, won't you?"

Gilbert blinked at him. "What?"

"I don't like the gods, and I don't want to be a god," Lovino snapped. "Find a way to control the string, and then fucking kill me. Or I'll do it myself, I don't care. All I ask is that you keep the idiot safe."

"Don't you see—"

"Yeah, I fucking do. I fucking see how the kid's manipulated me just as much as he has your brother. I don't care. Let him be the fucking catalyst. You get what you want, and so does everyone else. Don't get caught up in the details."

"Lovino, you're being a dumbass beyond usual. And you're lying to yourself."

Lovino chuckled derisively. "You'd know, wouldn't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Lovino just shook his head and started his path, picking through the swamp and following the direction that he was sure he had seen Lanze go. The god of Chaos had been destroyed for a reason. She was irrelevant and more issue than help. Lovino had no doubt in his mind that he would follow the same chord. The power in the stone only hammered in this fact. But, the other gods only sang along to the same song. They were irrelevant. Technology would snuff them out, Lovino knew that. Lovino  _trusted_  that. And, in some fucked up way, it made him trust Gilbert. One day Earth would die, as was the way of time, but humanity and growth would not stop. It would strive here, in lands of no time. Technology would learn to create worlds with Free Will above all—no one would have to worry about never being born because a psychopath like Antonio decided to strut along places they didn't belong. There wouldn't be peace, but Lovino was okay with that, because humanity wasn't known for peace. It was known for controlling and conquering—only it was also known for falling and re-establishing, so it made them better then the fucking gods that sat and controlled and never grew.

Lovino almost found pride in the thought that he would die for something like that. Maybe it was because he was just trying to find comfort in a suicide mission, or because the thought of becoming one of them made him want to kill himself right then, whatever it was kept his chin a little higher. He would kill Antonio, he would kill the gods, and then he would die. It was clean and simple and easy to understand. Put an end to the old world and let the people decide how the new world was to come about. Let the people decide, and let him fucking rest, because maybe it wasn't ball caps and coffee in the cab of a truck, but at least death was quiet and uneventful.

He wondered how Feliciano would fit in this world. He seemed to adapt well, and he was a politician if ever there was one. Not only that, but he was friends will Gilbert, too. He would do well. And he would be alive. Lovino found the most comfort in that, because he couldn't imagine the kid dead. He didn't want to. He much rather imagine him alive and talking and with his head out the window grumbling about feeling less dead with the wind in his hair and an annoying song on his lips. He much rather imagine the phantom touches reaching out just to do so, to imagine the tears of both hurt and laughter, to imagine the intelligence that found a way into Lovino's brain and the everything that broke into his heart. He was a manipulative bastard and Lovino knew that he was falling for a laid trap—a trap that would assure Feliciano had a friend and a means for safety—but he didn't care. He didn't give one single damn, because it gave him something he had scarcely ever known. It gave him something to hope for.

And all he would have to do to secure this hope would be to kill and die. That was easy for the descendant of Chaos, right?

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Oh my gosh, you guys: THIS CHAPTER MEANS THAT WE'RE HEADING TOWARDS THE WRAP UP OF THE STORY ;-; I almost want to just fill the rest of the month with filler shit and never be done with it, but I also have a few short stories I'd like to write/finish writing. I think we can expect to cap this shit off in about 8-15 chapters, though don't be surprised if I find a way to take a little bit longer. (But, Amber, you cry, there's so much to wrap up! Yeah, well, trust me, everything that is introduced from here/has been introduced is tied up with a fun lil bow, so just keep all the foreshadowing (or what you believe to be foreshadowing) in the back of your mind from here to the end.) Also, if you guys don't think that this wrap up will include ten million more inner monologues then you would be sorely mistaken._

_I've been thinking on that whole coming back thing, as well, and, well, I'm not going to tell you what I've decided yet, seeing as it's not conclusive, but do know that I'm thinking about it._

COMMENT! Who can find the irony? Hmm? Who can find it?


	36. Trente-Six

"Meet you on the other side!" The cawing came like rocks rolling about a blender, harsh and quick as the crow with a million eyes took higher to the sky and disappeared. It took only a little longer for Gilbert and Lovino to figure out  _on the other side of what_.

Lovino blinked. It was as if they had entered a hall of mirrors. They stood tall, higher than any tree top, with glorious designs of silver and copper. Even without entering Lovino could see the forking in the paths. A maze. He closed his eyes for a long while and just…breathed. He knew what was coming. To face despair in this way he would have to buck up mentally. Gilbert stood against a tree, studying the entrance. They were quiet.

"Alright," Lovino finally muttered, feeling he was wasting time now.

"We'll stick together," Gilbert decided.

It was impossible to not see his own reflection. Mostly because it went beyond him in the swirling whips he had familiarized himself with, but also because the mirrors surrounded every part of them. Lovino focused on his steps, his eyes downcast. Whether he was calm, or the surrounding attack was actively causing the emptiness to grow in his gut couldn't be determined in the moment, because he didn't care enough to think about it. He needed to aspire to something to defeat Nurgle. He had planned for this, he was ready. The monster in the mirror wouldn't deter him, because his plan came with it.

He could almost smile.

"This is weird," Gilbert said at hi side. "Why are there so many mirrors?"

"What do you see?"

"Just us. Nothing special. Why, what do you see?"

Arthur had said something about the mirror only reflecting against the person that they had been summoned against. Perhaps Nurgle had not been expecting Lovino to bring Gilbert. Perhaps he only had the power to reflect one at a time. Lovino did not know the extent of a Neverborn's power, only his own.

They came to the first fork in the road. The both of them paused. Neither rushed. "Which way should we go?" Gilbert asked, taking a few steps each way as if to test the waters. Left, right, forward (that broke into two slightly deterring paths itself. Lovino finally brought himself to look up, look past.

His frown did not correspond.

Rolling his eyes upwards he sighed to the purple sky. "I don't think it matters," he groaned.

They went right.

Fun story, it was the wrong way to go.

At first, nothing seemed different from the path that they had taken. Lovino's curiosity stared, Gilbert muttered something about clowns, and they walked. The swirling and twirling of tar in the mirror followed and grinned at them—or, at Lovino—but it didn't seem off. Not until it started to grow and expand. Lovino's steps slowed and he looked behind himself.

They were blocked onto the path. "Gilbert," he warned, focused and ready with his sword in hand. It didn't take long for whirring metal to join him.

"What do we do?'

"The only thing we can do is keep walking."

"Or try breaking through and going back."

Lovino shook his head. "Good luck with that one. You're more likely to go deaf then succeed at breaking one of those things."

They were more careful as they walked, always looking back to watch as the blockade seemed to follow them in. Every few steps it would close in.

It wasn't much to think on until they made it to the end of their path only to find that that, too, was blocked. There were no more forking paths. Gilbert put his hand to the mirror they found themselves at, as if making sure it was real. Lovino turned in wide circles, trying to see past his own reflection. "Fuck," he growled.

"Okay, so how do we get out of this?" Gilbert asked.

Before Lovino could respond, the blockade got a little closer. It was closing in on them. His heart lurched when he understood those implications. "I don't fucking know, but we're going to have to figure it out soon."

The feeling in his gut expanded like the shadows in the mirror. Soon Lovino found himself surrounded. He let his sword fall, afraid of another trick against Gilbert. He did, however, recall his shield as the darkness overtook his head.

_You are not like her._

This was not the usual voice of the shadows. It did not take his own tenor or pattern of speech. It was distinct and rasped. It was the voice of Nurgle.

"Lovino, a way out!" he heard Gilbert call. He could not see his friend, so he continued to refuse the information as fact. Even if he could see him he would not be able to believe it.

Paranoia. It was a backlash of the emptiness, then. Perhaps. Could he believe that as fact?

He stayed calm.

_Why do you insist on following?_

"Why do you insist on asking questions that don't matter?" Lovino sighed. He allowed his shield to fall. He had nothing to hide from this Neverborn; or, from anyone, really. Perhaps. He didn't care enough to wonder around the notion.

_You are being tricked._

"Probably."

_You don't care?_

"Not enough to try and find a loophole, no."

_Why?_

It was a strange serendipity that he found in the darkness. With a blink, however, it became formed and familiar and him. "The only way to defeat you is to figure out what's worth fighting for, is it not?"

_This is not about defeating me._

"No, but it is about what I want," the brunet decided. He reached out and touched the cool surface of the mirror. "And Chaos is all about sacrifice for the better, is it not?"

_Your logic is flawed._

Lovino smiled, letting his hand fall. "It usually is."

_You are on a path of pure destruction._

He knew that. It was why the image in the mirror threatened him so. He was afraid of himself, of not being able to control himself, of being the thing that hurt rather than help. But, he was realizing slowly that maybe, just maybe, it was his nature to hurt. Chaos hurt but it allowed those who healed to thrive and grow. "Ever try to plant a flower in concrete?"

_You are not like her._

He just closed his eyes. Was the barricade still moving? Closer and closer, closing in on him, causing the stress in his body and the tension in his lungs. The claustrophobia setting in, threatening to break his cool. Or was it something else? An unstoppable doubt that replayed his own declarations in a dim light and mocking tone.

He didn't let his smile fall, though. He laughed. He opened his eyes. He looked into himself with a new vigor. "I'm not like her because I'm not her. I have my humanity. Once I lose that, though, I will be just like her." He stared into the image of himself. "But don't worry about all that. Gilbert's really good at setting up securities."

He imagined that the reflection of himself grew and grew before falling and dying. Perhaps it was a trick of his eyes, or maybe it was Nurgle's last attempt to deter him, but it seemed that the figure in front of him took, instead of a final fall, a fall that was broken and swirling and the cause of a great new terror. It stabbed into his heart like an arrow, pushing him back away from the mirror he stood at.

It was the pain that brought tears to Lovino's eyes, he decided as he fell into Gilbert. The albino caught him by the shoulders. The world was light and purple and filled with overbrush of trees and bushes. Lovino scrubbed over his eyes, dispelling the darkness in his heart—or, trying to. It was…powerful. He had gone through a lot, but this little attack was what may have taken him to his knees had he not had Gilbert to remind him of his mission.

"What—What happened?" he asked weakly.

"The mirrors just disappeared," Gilbert shared.

Lovino stood shakily on his own, rubbing at his chest. "Alright. Let's keep—going. We need to find Nurgle and absorb his powers."

"You alright?"

"Peachy."

There were no cries to meet them. Just two beady eyes that stared them down as they walked into the familiar clearing. Lovino pulled the stone from his pocket. The eyes just continued to stare. Lovino stared back.

Silence.

When Nurgle move to grab the stone, Lovino could have sworn he heard something whispered, a 'don't even try to trick me. You know it won't work,' but Lovino wasn't positive if he had heard anything. Slimy fingers wrapped around the stone.

Underneath rolls of fat was where Nurgle's symbol lay. It was different than Khorne's, three circles wrapping around each other like snakes. In the middle was where he placed it.

Similar to how it worked out with Khorne, a bright green light blew up the once purple world. Lovino only watched as it got so bright it was white. Nurgle lost his color and his life, a grey squat stone that would forever sit and home that crabs that continued to crawl and snap. Lovino approached and stole the stone back.

Beady eyes did not watch them as they left, as they were gone. Voids of scorched nothingness.

* * *

Gilbert walked next to him in silence, his hands deep in his pockets. He seemed to be thinking of something, but Lovino couldn't imagine what. Though, Lovino was also too tired to try. The day's expense—or, the however long they'd been there—was starting to take a toll on him. He watched his feet as he walked, thinking and thinking until the voice in his head grew bored and dipped out to leave him in true silence.

"We should take a break," Gilbert decided.

Lovino agreed, falling against the base of a tree with a stifled groan. "You didn't happen to bring anything to eat, did you?"

"No."

Lanze flew around their heads. "What's the matter? There are two more retched ones to defeat!"

Lovino closed his eyes, leaning his head back. Lanze continued to caw obsessively, even to the point of picking at him, but Lovino ignored him. He was too tired to deal with it all. His felt like everything was weighed down and his heart still tremored with the pain Nurgle left him. Wanting nothing more than for the pain to disappear, Lovino allowed himself to drift.

* * *

When he woke up he found Gilbert was asleep across from him, his mechanical arm crossed with the other over his chest. Lovino stretched, sore, and stood. He felt better. His sleep had been dreamless, something he didn't really mind. He looked up and around but could not find Lanze. Almost scared he checked his pocket. The stone was still there. He allowed himself to relax.

He popped and stretched the kinks that came from sleeping against the base of a tree. Gilbert stirred and woke, instantly reaching and turning on his arm when he saw someone was standing in front of him. Before he successfully launched an attack, however, he seemed to recognize it as Lovino and sighed.

"Ready to go, then?" Gilbert asked with a long groan as he stood.

Lovino nodded.

Lanze was diving from the trees before they even had a chance to call out for him. Their mission continued on.

"I've never gone against the other two Neverborns," Lovino admitted. "I don't really know what to expect."

"Lanze, where are we going next?" Gilbert demanded.

"To the retched on Slaneesh!"

Gilbert nodded. "The Neverborn of pain."

"I think Arthur called it the Neverborn of life."

Gilbert shrugged. "Doesn't matter what you call 'em."

The whole world continued to change colors and scenery, but it felt like years and miles before anything aside from their journey happened. Lanze took to flying closer to them when the trees disappeared. It was as if they were in a barren landscape of sand, desert. Lovino blinked through the sweat that beaded and rolled down his forehead.

"I couldn't imagine a Neverborn of life to be here," Lovino coughed into his sleeve.

"Slaneesh has moved locations many times," Lanze shared. "She is quite paranoid of your arrival."

"I've never—"

"Word travels when the descendant of the Creator comes around." A cackled laugh. "Word travels, and she is scared! She's scared to die!"

"If she's afraid," Gilbert trailed.

"Then this one won't be as easy as the last ones." Lovino agreed.

Whirring and initial anger at hand, the two continued.

Perhaps it was the heat, or perhaps it was a mirage, but Lovino could see in the distance a patch of life in the middle of the sand dunes.

"She's scared to die," was the song that took them closer and closer to the battle. Lovino kept his eyes wide, but the sun was blinding. The heat was distracting. The sand was hard to wade through.

Suddenly Gilbert let out a surprised cry. Lovino spun around to see the albino handing upside down in the air, a tight vine wrapped around his leg and holding him up. It whipped him around before turning to smash him downwards. Lovino jumped forward and slashed at its base before a fatal move could be made. His weapon sliced through it effectively. Gilbert grunted when he hit the sand but was able to kick out of the dead vine that still wrapped around him.

When the two turned back towards the trees and life, they found that it was instead coming towards them. A walking island amongst the sand.

"What the fuck?" Lovino breathed.

"That's a new one," Gilbert chuckled ironically, using Lovino as leverage to stand.

It wasn't a large island in comparison to land masses but compared to the two males that stood in front of it the island was ginormous. Large brown, worm-like vines wobbled beneath it, a great collection of dirt its foundation. Trees and bushes could be glimpsed on its back, along with the phantom figure that Lovino thought to be a woman. The island stopped moments in front of them. Lanze was nowhere to be found.

A long pause happened between them.

It was broken with the foundation came apart like a mouth and howled in their faces, spraying them with rocks and muck before tearing forward. Lovino and Gilbert tore apart just in time to watch the island devour the sand where they had just been standing.

"It's trying to  _eat_  us!" Gilbert screamed.

"I can see that, Gilbert!" Lovino screamed back at him as the island swooped back into the air. It turned towards Lovino and advanced, but Gilbert let off one of his balls of energy. It let out an impossible howl, turning around to attack the albino.

As it turned, Lovino confirmed it. On its back stood a beautiful woman, evasive in the sun. Her face was contorted in concentration, her arms wide, palms downwards and fingers spidered. She was controlling the island!

Lovino ran under the island, slicing at one of its rooted legs in hopes to occupy it long enough for him to get to Gilbert. His plan worked well enough, and soon the brunet was practically crashing into the man shooting off another blast. "Keep—Keep it distracted," Lovino panted, looking back to watch as the rooted leg weaved itself back together. Stronger. "I think I know how to defeat it."

Gilbert let off another firey ball that careened and splinted a tree that had been dipping off the side. He nodded. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you."

Lovino needed something other than a sword. Something that would allow him to climb the island so he confront the Neverborn on top. He dropped his first weapon of anger and tried to imagine his powers morphing into daggers or claws. It was futile. Groaning he recalled his weapon and continued forth, no time to experiment.

The island screetched when Lovino made his way under it again. Gilbert moved, hitting it's front rather than its side in an attempt to distract it from Lovino's movements. The action would have done good if sudden vines did not curl around the earthy belly of the beast and attack Lovino with snake heads. Lovino cut and diced, heads only growing in places of the fallen like some Greek mythical dragon or dog. Lovino cried out when one bit his shoulder, turning and cutting it.

It was that pain he was able to expand and grow into protection along his limbs.

The island made a dive at Gilbert, causing the blond to scurry. "If you could hurry, Lovino, that would be great!"

Swallowing Lovino took one final swing against the vines before grabbing one. It bit at his armor, its fangs causing his protection to crack, but Lovino just dropped his sword and grabbed at another. More and more fistfuls of vines came with more and more bites. Once he was able to tangle his feet into the mess he was able to start his climb. Fangs finally made it through his armor, but the pain didn't deter him. As quickly as he could, Lovino scrambled up the side of the island, throwing himself onto its back.

Scrambling to his feet in a shattered shield he beckoned his weapon once more. A vine followed his moments, slinking into his pocket and tearing the stone from him. It recoiled too fast for Lovino to catch it, and when Lovino rose he found himself face-to-face with the woman of the island.

He straightened, never breaking eye contact with emerald eyes.

"Why are you here?" Her voice shook as much as her eyes, a practical whisper. Dark hair cascaded down her bare back and her body trembled. Her skin was kissed, and her lips were perfectly sculpted.

"My name is Lovino Gaspari, I am—"

"I know who you are."

"Then you know why I'm here."

She seemed to tremble more, tender tears kissing the corners of her eyes like a song. "You're here to kill me."

She looked so fragile and beautiful, but Lovino knew there was a power to her. He could see it in the depths of her eyes. He could see the lie, the manipulation. He could hear it like a dark honey dripping from her tongue as she begged. She grabbed at his hands, holding them to her chest as she cried.

Lovino could feel his heart dip and speed. His mind fogged, and pity filled his being. Pity and lust.

She certainly was beautiful. Something to be protected! A flower in the concrete. His goal. She was his goal. He would protect her from all harm.

When her lips met his, however, the illusion shattered. His eyes stared, wide and opened, as in that moment of contact her skin became placid and her limbs boney. Gnarled and ugly, with caverns for cheeks and snakes for hair.

He jumped back, swinging his weapon through the air. She returned to her former beauty, staring at him with wide scared eyes. "What's the matter?" she begged of him.

"I've come to absorb your power," he stated. "Give me back what belongs to me!"

She approached with outward hands, groveling before him, but he threatened her with his sword. She must have realized that she had been found out, because her last cry was snuffed out as she opened her mouth wide and began to shriek. Her hair billowed around as her limbs grew long and gaunt, her skin paled, a sickening crack mushing with that of the wind that surrounded her.

Lovino readied himself for a fight. Behind her, a large monster of constructed vines formed. Lovino watched as the stone was constructed into its body, protecting it away from him as the vines picked up the woman, devouring her and her screams.

Flaccid eyes dropped down the monster's body. Emerald. Perhaps this was her true form in the end. With broken armor Lovino swung at a flopping arm that batted against him with terrifying speed and strength. He gasped as he was thrown through the air. He scrambled to grab a fistful of vines just before he was tossed from the back of the island and to the sand below. Kicking down dirt he scrambled on his hands and knees back to stability, only to have to roll out of the way as another limb of weaved vines slammed down.

Calling the sword, he ran around and slashed at the monster's back. The vines fixed themselves just as easily as Lovino had cut through them. He tried stabbing through it instead, but the vines only tightened around Lovino's wrists, causing him to open his palms and for his weapon to disappear and he untangled himself.

He tried instead his sword of despair. He prepared to fly forward with an attack when he caught the reflection in the blade. The monster and the island and the sky were all monochrome, but he could see that towards the center of the vines was a glowing green ember. The stone, wrapped tightly in a knot of living rope.

Looking up he was presented with the normal, colorful, bright world. The monster screamed and attacked. Lovino dodged out of the way, but a vine wrapped around his leg and threw him into the air. He attempted to cut through the vein, but his sword didn't sear through it like his weapon of anger did. The monster slammed him against the ground. Lovino screamed on contact, his sword disappearing. The vine lifted him again, posing for another attack, but suddenly a blast of energy tore through the monster's arm. Lovino was dropped to the ground.

Shakily he stood, coughing and spitting blood. Another blast hit the monster in the chest, causing it to stumble backwards. Lovino looked over the side to see Gilbert taking aim once more.

With a small sigh he reformed his weapon of anger and recollected himself. His body cried out, and he was forced to drop any means of his armor in fear that he would pass out. The monster screamed and cried, vines reforming over the body of the woman that it was hiding in its knots. Perhaps this wasn't her true form, but she was protecting her true form. If he could attack the woman, make her weak enough to drop the vines, he could get to the stone and absorb her energy.

"Gilbert," he screamed over the side, "shoot for the chest!"

"Got it!"

Lovino waited. Another shot from Gilbert destroyed the newly reformed vines. He could see a blink of pale skin. As quickly as his battered body could, Lovino ran and stabbed his sword into the small hole of opportunity.

The woman from within screamed, pitch so sharp that Lovino recoiled slightly, his head ringing with pain. He twisted his sword until the greenage faltered and fell, unveiling the ugly witch from within. He had stabbed her in the stomach, tarnishing the symbol of life. She reached at him with long fingernails and crazy eyes, but Lovino dodged away, drowning himself in falling vines as he groped for the stone. His fingers wrapped around it just as the woman's claws tore into his leg.

The vines finally fell and Lovino hit the ground. He scrambled out of the woman's grasp, kicking and turning just in time to catch her other hand that came down, clawing at his eyes.

He wrestled her hands away from his face, but she got the upper hand, knocking the stone away from him. Lovino looked over to see the mess of vines rise and go for the prize. Pushing her off of him he scrambled for it, grabbing it just as the vines began to wrap themselves around it, instead wrapping themselves around him hands. He called his sword, and its formation cut them away.

When he turned he was met with not a beautiful woman, but a final, desperate attempt. Golden eyes pleaded and cried. Lovino forced the stone into the chest where he had recalled the symbol to be. Golden eyes filled with lies trembled back to green as the Neverborn screeched. Lovino closed his eyes tight and turned his face away as the brilliant light turned the warm body underneath his hands to stone. When he looked again the woman was dead and there were no lies in the void.

The island beneath him rumbled and fell. Upon contact with the ground Lovino was thrown off his feet, tumbling into the sand. Gilbert helped him to his feet.

"Fuck," Lovino groaned, grabbing at his side, keeled over.

Gilbert laughed, but his words were suddenly drowned out when a blinding light surrounded them. Lovino stumbled, hitting the island of Ivan's office.

"What the fuck?"

"Gilbert, Lovino!"

Lovino rose to find Ludwig in the doorway. The three of them looked at one another in confusion. "Did you—" Lovino stared.

"No, Lud did—"

"What?"

Gilbert and Lovino shared a long look before also sharing a breathy: "the fuck?"

"Are you two alright?" Ludwig asked.

Lovino grunted to lean against the island with his hip. "I really hope you're not here with bad news," he groaned, grabbing at the box of crackers he had left. They were a bit stale, but his stomach was beyond empty. "Where's Feliciano?"

"Back on the String. Something's wrong."

"Wrong  _how_?" Gilbert inquired.

"There's a new killer on the loose."

"What do you mean by new killer? You went back to the eighties, Feliciano probably studied the fucker to death."

"That's the problem. Feliciano says he's never heard of this guy."

Gilbert groaned. "You guys fucked up the String."

"We could use your guys' help fixing it."

Lovino couldn't say that he was disappointed by the sounds of that, but— "Gil—"

"Yeah?"

"Please tell me you have real pain medicine and not that sleep shit."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Ah, this chapter was hard to write. Not because anything surprising happened or I didn't know where I was going, but because I kept wanting to write the next three chapter. Why? Well because starting now is the_

_BURY ME ALIVE CHRISTMAS SPECTACULAR_

_That's right, guys! A three chapter Christmas special! New serial killer, budding love, and maybe even some plot? HOW GREAT DOES THAT SOUND?_

_(anyone that sasses the fact that this is being written in September goes on the Naughty list, so fuck you.)_

_Oh, and YAY! WE GOT TO 100 REVIEWS, YOU GUYS!_

_(the fuck are y'all on AO3 doin? Huh?)_

_RaiderR comment 09-07-2018_

_Interesting theory to bring into this, dude! And, awe, don't cry! You'll be alright, promise. Haha, the only part of the Harry Potter series I cried during was when Sirius Black died. That shit broke my soul, and is also one of the reasons I will never ever like Snape (that and because he was an asshole but whatcanyoudo?) And, ramble away! I love your rambles (:_

_You should check out the account_ **Sky-Hetalia-Trash** _. They write, like, 100 word stories that are AMAZING! Maybe you're just not a multi-chap type of writer!_

COMMENT! Out of the Neverborn's powers that we've seen so far, which one would you want and why?


	37. CHRISTMAS SPECTACULAR (Trente-Sept)

Ludwig stood in multiple doorways for a long while as the two others prepared for a journey to the String. Lovino could feel the tall blond's stare on the back of his neck as Gilbert ran tests in the medical wing to make sure his introduction to the ground hadn't caused any fractures or internal bleeding. Thankfully for Lovino, the worst injury was a bruised rib that traveled to the surface, making the skin under his arm and around to his back look like a spotted rash. Gilbert gave him a salve and pill, and Lovino was going to run the pill by Ludwig to make sure it was actually what the albino claimed it to be, but when he turned to confront the stare blue eyes darted away in something Lovino recognized as a glare. So, he took the pill.

This team would be great antagonists for a high school soap opera. Fucking handing out pills and peer pressuring without saying a  _word_.

For the first time since Lovino had arrived at the Renegade, he had the opportunity to properly shave. They had been provided wonderful service at the base, all essentials given as if they were guests (or, rather, live-in prisoners), but here such luxuries were not given. He used a loose straight razor Gilbert had found in the kitchen area that would have been used for cleaning. Surprisingly he didn't knick himself, though the stubble was rather wimpy (which was the ultimate decider in the question of whether he should keep it. Change things up.) He sighed when he came out of the room with the shower. He and Gilbert were decked out in clothing that they had found around, so neither of them exactly  _fit_  any article. Lovino's shirt was too long for his torso with arms that reached past his hands and required him to roll them to the nook of his elbow, while the pants were too  _short_  and looked like he was awaiting a god damn flood. Gilbert was almost comically in the white shirt that could have played black against his skin tone and black pants that looked like they were apart of some weirdly styled sweat suit. With every move Gilbert's pants practically whistled.

Though, of course, Lovino had never really given much thought to clothing. To the clothing the base had administered to him, to what he wore to work or around Kansas on his little adventures. But when the clothing was being pulled off of corpses and the smell (no matter how many washes they went through—though, the scent was perhaps simply burned into the brunet's nose) was an apparent reminder of their origin, Lovino found himself considering every seam carefully.

He rubbed a strange solution on his feet, given to him by Gilbert who practically cheered upon finding it in the rubble, that would help with the forming callouses and bruises that were result of trekking along the Neverworld for so long (thankfully his boots were water resistant and they were fixing a much drearier aliment).

It seemed that no matter what he was doing, if he was in the public eye he was in the path of Ludwig's scrutinizing stare. At one point he even turned to demand what the fuck he wanted, but he cut himself short. He didn't need to be causing problems, he realized. It was a bitter sweet thought. One that reminded him that he had something to work towards, but also one that simmered in a burning curiosity that only grew as he brushed it aside.

Gilbert did one last round of tests to make sure Lovino was in  _travelling condition_  before the three were finally ready to move. "If you die on us now," Gilbert had said, a sinister sort of honest humor in his eyes, "then you're no use to us or to anyone."

He had pressed a large, unlabeled bottle of pills in his hand. "Er—String time, Lud. How many?"

"What are they?"

"Synxthian."

"One every four hours or four every hour if you want to try and kill yourself."

Lovino could feel a glare forming after the blond's tone. Sure, Ludwig might not like him, and sure, Lovino might one day try to make amends (likely not, though; he had a schedule and Ludwig could fuck off it for all he cared), but if he was going to play the snide-comments game then he was going to find himself the loser real fucking quick. It was Gilbert's curious glance that kept Lovino's comment on his tongue (though bleach was harmless in simple conversations, wasn't it?). Ludwig didn't say anything more, his watch visible and then in use before being washed out and relocated to the similar setting of the Land Without Time.

"What's happened?" Lovino asked, his anger snuffed. His feet crunched against the embers that still managed to smoke passionately. The trees that had once surrounded the area had taken to black ash with packs of flames that took advantage of the windless reality.

"No idea," Ludwig admitted. "It was like this when I came to get you guys."

"Well, let's get out of here before we find out," Gilbert muttered, pulling out the keychain clock. Before Lovino could properly tear away his attention from the burning forest they were standing on pavement.

Suddenly the pain that had ravished Lovino's body, and that had been stifled by the medication, was alive. Though, it seemed that it wasn't the same. The pain ravished Lovino's skull and twisted his vision, causing his eyes to feel cross and his sight to blur and darken. He fell backward and hit the ground with a desperate cry.

"Hey, Lovino!" Gilbert called over him. Lovino shook his head with his hands pressed tightly against his eyes. He felt like his head was ready to  _explode_. Even breathing past the forming tears seemed like an impossible mission.

He didn't know what he was feeling, what had caused all this, but he knew that something was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, the word traced fire along his cracking skull; along the scars that pulsed and burned along his arms and over his chest.

Not only that, but his body automatically took the incentive that he was being attacked. The pain bristled and bloomed, and soon enough Lovino could hear Gilbert and Ludwig both telling him that him using his powers was a bad idea around general public. "I—I—can't help—" he had cried out intelligibly, feeling the oils fall around his skin and harden.

"Lovino, calm down, you need to get a hold of yourself."

Lovino opened his eyes, initially hoping that his message would pass over without him having to speak, but everything was even worse upon that decision. Gilbert was close, his eyes stern and concerned, and Ludwig stood behind him, perhaps even almost worried himself, but that those two things, the people, were the only thing that Lovino could focus on. Everything else, the ground, the building behind them, the structures around them, a car rattling away, everything else lurched and changed countless times every second. They spent more time as white and blue lines that whirred and strung together than the monotonous pictures Lovino knew that they were  _supposed_  to be. It was as if he had found himself in one big computer glitch that switched between two totally different scenes again and again.

And then it all stopped. Everything settled and the great pounding in his skull was but a whisper in comparison to the screeches before it.

When he finally caught his breath and his tongue, all he could choke out was a pathetic: "Somethings not right."

"What do you mean?"

Lovino closed his eyes gently, both hating and relishing in the feeling of tears that came from the simple action. "I—I think—" he started, but he didn't know  _what_  to think. How to explain it. Not to mention, he was in fear that it would happen again and that he should take this moment to rest and ready himself for it.

Gilbert and Ludwig helped him to his feet, but he found that he could walk just fine and soon left their aid. The three of them found themselves in the small yet crowded yard of a house Lovino could only imagine would be on the show Hoarders in a few years. Junked cars and tractors and the like lined the dead grass and foot-tall wired fence that did nothing aside from separate the junk from the sidewalk. A single tree grew near the house, but its branches had already shed its leaves for the year and simply whined against the chilled wind and overcasted sky.

The slim path leading to the front door's step and manila porchlight was concrete but overcrowded with weeds in the cracks that led all the way to the step. Ludwig led the way, stepping up onto the small porch and opening the storm door that wailed at the contact. When he opened the actual door he had to practically slam his shoulder into the wood to get it to budge.

The three of them walked in. Everything was dark, but it smelt of heavy spices. Ludwig flicked on the light and moved onto the rest of the house, calling out for Feliciano.

Lovino closed the door, using his weight until it groaned into its place, as he took in the scene. They had walked into a living area that was as hoarded as outside, except this time with paperwork and random items either in or atop of bags with large black letters. A couch sat facing the door with a bulky TV and even bulkier box with VCRs stacked around it that sat underneath the window that looked out to the porch.

The room fed into a large archway that stared directly into the kitchen. Without even moving Lovino could see the sink, small counter, and across from them a rummaging fridge and oven. Just past that was more clutter and a dining room table pressed against the wall with a single chair hovering around it.

Lovino finally moved from his place at the door as Gilbert and Ludwig turned past the dining area and into a staircase blocked off by a door, but a sudden sound from outside caught his attention. A sudden rap upon the door acted into the air.

"Open the door! My hands are full!"

Lovino couldn't help his heart to speed at the sound of his friend's voice. With great effort he pulled the door open.

Feliciano was bent over a large box that he was in the process of putting down, as if he were readying himself to open the door himself, but with a coo filled his arms again and stood. "Thank y—" he cut himself off when he saw Lovino.

Suddenly the box was crashing to the ground and Lovino was trapped in the boy's vice grip around his neck. "Lovino!" the boy cried. Lovino caught the flying force, stumbling back with a grunt as sudden aches and pains started up from the contact.

"Hey, idiot," he grumbled back.

Feliciano stepped back, his toes hitting the box that had fallen between them. His smile was impossible. "Lovino, where'd you come from? Are you— _are you_ -?" his voice seemed to fall into a secretive, almost guarded whisper, wide eyes imploring what his words failed to. Lovino had to look away because he couldn't put past the relief that the honesty in those honey orbs help thrummed down his spine. It were almost as if Lovino had never expected to see the kid again. As if he would forever be stuck killing manipulated illusions of him.

But here he stood.

"I—ahem—Ludwig brought us, didn't he tell you?"

"Lud—oh he did mention something about where he was going earlier. I didn't hear him because I was working. Oh my gosh, Lovino you're here! I missed you." He leaned in a bit, the box rattling, "you have no idea how  _annoying_  these people are."

Lovino couldn't help it, he laughed.

"Feli!" Gilbert called from behind them.

Feliciano perked up, another huge grin plastered onto his features. "Gil!" he yelled back, jumping up but quickly stopping himself. "Oh shit," he muttered under his breath, quickly picking up his things. "I hope nothing broke."

Lovino glanced over the contents of the open box. Colorful glass objects blinked at him over the cardboard lip, and Feliciano gingerly picked through them in his inspection. "What are those?"

Feliciano sent him a small smile. "Christmas decorations. There was a big auction at the church this morning and I got a few things. Gotta be careful, though, I'm pretty sure some of these are made with mercury-based paints." Lovino let him move past him and put the box in front of the couch. "Hey, Luddy, can you help me get the tree?"

Ludwig sighed, something of annoyance sitting behind it. "You got a tree."

"Yeah, I did," Feliciano said matter-of-factly.

"We're supposed to—"

"Be working on the case.  _I know._  You know, I've done a lot more of this stuff then you have, and I know that sitting in one spot for hours on end won't do any good; gotta get up and around,  _okay_?"

Gilbert and Lovino shared a quick awkward glance.

"I'm just saying—"

"So, if you're not a god, then what are you now?" Feliciano asked quickly, which caused Gilbert to chuckle into his palm.

Deciding that  _immensely enjoying this_  wasn't a proper response, Lovino settled on a: "I guess I'm whatever I was before."

"It seems that we're going to have to absorb all four Neverborns before the stone will activate," Gilbert continued. "Three down, one to go."

Feliciano nodded and did something of a bounce, but his "great job!" wasn't as bubbly as it could have been. Ludwig had shrugged his coat on and was making his way to the door.

Gilbert shook his head and chuckled after him, muttering to Lovino as he passed "glad  _we're_  not an old married couple."

Feliciano started picking through the box, picking out ornaments as he talked aimlessly. "I'm going to have to pick up some lights for the tree tomorrow, but I guess I have some ornaments for it. I have to get an angel, too, but worse comes to worse and we go without one."

Lovino moved to help him unpack. Feliciano was pulling out a heavy ceramic set of a barn and a handful of biblical figurines. He was going on about how the barn had a place for a candle when Lovino interrupted him. "How's the investigation going? The one for that girl."

Feliciano was carefully placing the set in the corner on an already cluttered bookshelf. He sighed. "She's missing," he admitted, "and we've had to put her case on the backburner for now."

"Because of the new killer?"

"Ludwig told you about that?"

"It's the reason he brought us back. Said you guys changed the String."

"Yeah, I guess we did." Lovino frowned as he watched the kid move to unpack a newspaper wrapped horse. Turning it over he found a key and twisted it. A similar yet namely evasive Christmas tune clicked into the air abrasively. Feliciano blew up his cheeks, staring down at it. "It's kind've stressful, you know? I expected to come back here and have all the information and be able to solve a case that had gone cold. Wy Jenson, missing in '87, never found. I was hoping to change  _that_. Not come back, lose the girl, and  _also_  discover a new serial killer." He found a place for the horse with a bitter chuckle. "They're calling him the Christmas Collar Bomber, and it's really bumming me out." When Feliciano turned back he scrubbed a weary hand down his cheek. "I just don't know what to do about it."

Lovino found a ceramic bell that rang when he picked it up. He handed it to the kid with a tick of a smile. "I think the answer to that is pretty obvious. Figure it out."

Feliciano sent him a sarcastic smirk. "I'm so glad you're back, Sherlock."

Lovino just clicked his tongue. "Just stop being an idiot, Watson."

"This is a part of a set; can you get me the other ones?"

The two only had a third of the box unpacked when the blonds were stomping up the porch, the tree a shared inconveniences between them. Feliciano was quick to direct, and Lovino took taking the base of the tree when the awkward turn threatened to pin Gilbert to the door. It was a rather short tree, but its top still whispered along the ceiling in its corner next to the TV. Feliciano secured the screws in the tree's stand before standing.

He sent Ludwig a warm smile and a nod, as if apologizing. "Thank you."

"Where's Alfred?"

"He should still be at the precinct. I think they have him on stake-out duty tonight. There was an anonymous tip that they're following up on."

"Hopefully it comes to something," Ludwig sighed.

Feliciano hummed his agreeance.

"So, how can we help?" Gilbert asked with a loud clap.

"I was hoping that you could go over one of the bombs," Ludwig said, walking into the kitchen and dining area and grabbing a bag. In it was, as the name of the killer would suggest, a collar. However, it was incomplete and scorched back. Gilbert took the sill closed bag into his hands.

"Looks detonated," he observed.

"Kelly Erickson," Feliciano shared, crossing his arms over his chest. "That was the woman it killed when it went off."

"Which is terribly sad," Gilbert drew, "but I can't do much with it as it is. You don't happen to have one that isn't blown up?"

"No, we don't."

"Just do what you can with it," Ludwig said, moving to head back to the dining room. "Feliciano, where did you put Benita's file?"

"Oh, I took it down stairs. It should be under the lamp."

Ludwig took to the stairs again. Feliciano started on the ornaments on the tree. "Jacob Benita is who the cops were suspecting did it, but it seems that his hand writing doesn't match those of the notes."

Lovino hummed. "Can you really count on calligraphy to count out a guy for murder?"

Feliciano shook his head. "No, you can't. But without the notes, and with no forensic data, that would leave all evidence against him  _purely_ circumstantial. Can't arrest someone just for being in the wrong place or for being a creep."

"Who is Jacob Benita?"

Feliciano paused, a hanging orb twisting in the air as it awaited its place on the tree. "He's in his mid-forties, works at the high school as a shop teacher, and has been noted by his co-workers to be a bit of a recluse."

"Have you guys looked to see if any of the materials used to make the bombs were offered at the school."

Feliciano nodded. "Yeah. It was inconclusive, though."

"His home?'

"There was a workshop there, too, but the weird thing was that there was nothing mechanical being built. It was a woodshop—benches and podiums, but nothing like the bombs."

"It's sounding like he's not it, then. Who else do you have?"

Feliciano frowned. "Not much else. We looked over a few people, but all of them seemed even less likely than Benita."

"Alright, then look at the victims, I guess. What did they all have in common?"

"All of the victims so far have been pregnant woman."

Lovino shook his head. "That's pretty fucked up."

"Tell me about it."

"You said there were notes?" Gilbert asked, coming back in from the dining area he had gone into to check out the other bomb ruminates.

"Yeah, they should be downstairs. Bring them up, please," Feliciano said, turning around and offering the albino a kind smile.

Gilbert nodded before running down the steps. He returned before Feliciano had time to place another object. "Luddy said he'd be up in a few."

"Kay."

Lovino reached out for one of the clear bags Gilbert held. "They just let you keep all this stuff?" Lovino asked dubiously.

"Alfred is the main detective on the case. His partner didn't care too much to keep these."

"They only have two people on the case?"

Feliciano frowned at him. "This isn't like TV, Lov. They don't have all the staff in the world, and the FBI hasn't deemed it to be a terrorist act so they're not looking for jurisdiction."

"Oh, so as long as it's not some foreign fucker the FBI don't care?" Lovino groaned.

"It's not like that. Just—Just it's our case right now, so let's focus on that instead of focusing on whatever you have against the government."

"I don't have anything against the government."

"Just read the notes, Lovino."

The writing was regular. The lettering was a little messy, moreso towards the end, but otherwise large and legible. It took on a more cursive body, but Lovino couldn't be surprised. He read aloud so that Gilbert could hear as well. "You can keep looking, but I will never leave a witness. I am working for one that will never grow to see. The time of giving is fraudulent and cruel and it will always take more than it gives. With my device I will set the stage for reality and allow death to watch my play. It will no longer have control over me, and I refuse to let you and your men to have control over me. SHBM."

"We haven't figured out what the initials at the end mean," Feliciano said. "They're at the end of all the letters. It might be a diversion, or it could mean that we're looking for more than one culprit, which is likely seeing how well the hostage situation is set up. The notes are always found on the bodies, and the bodies are always killed somewhere that the public can easily see. One even died in the parking lot of a bank, Sarah McCaffry."

"How many deaths have there been?"

"Four so far."

"There's five notes," Gilbert pointed out.

Feliciano nodded. "One was sent directly to the police station. It was after the first police sketch, based on witness testimonies of a loitering man that seems to have showed up during two of the murders, was published. All it is is mocking the police and the press." He cursed lowly when he found his box empty, sliding it off the cluttered coffee table and onto the floor. He sat on the couch, his head in his hands, fingers in his hair. "I just don't get it. It seems that every time we're comfortable with a conclusion that we're wrong. The letters are written by someone who obviously feels that them _murdering_  these woman is in their right, and not one word sheds any light on feeling guilty! But at the same time, nothing sounds like they're being overly cocky like some serial killers in the past. Well, except for the one about the sketch being all wrong, but what conclusion do we draw from that? That they take their looks into great account or that they're bitter about the press covering something that wasn't factual? What is their end goal?"

Lovino sat down next to him, re-reading his note with a shake of his head. Really, he didn't know enough about the situation or the suspects to draw  _any_ conclusions. "They're going after pregnant woman? Well, maybe he lost a child, based on what it says in the note."

Feliciano sighed, sitting back with a frown ruining his features. "We've looked over that. It's another thing that sets Benita out of the light. He's never even been married. He works at a school, but aside from that there is nothing linking him to children."

"Well, did he ever lose a sibling when he was young or something?"

"Only child. His mother is still alive, sounds like he's been pulled back since his childhood, but no siblings or weird happenings. Just an introvert that likes carving wood."

There was a long, pensive silence. Gilbert and Lovino shuffled through the notes, and Lovino found himself more and more confused as he read. Feliciano stared into the ceiling, every once and a while muttering something that was on his mind, but he would shake his head and stile a groan with his hand.

"Lovino, you might want to stay ahead of the pain," Gilbert warned coming back from the kitchen with a couple glasses of water.

"Right, thanks," Lovino said, fishing out the bottle of pills and shuffling one into his hand.

"What're those for?" Feliciano asked, taking the bottle as Lovino thanked Gilbert for the water.

"Pain," Lovino said, the pill on his tongue, before swallowing it away. "All this fighting really fucking hurts."

"How'd your," Feliciano motioned to his chest, "heal up?"

"Pretty bad scar, but it's alright. This fucker," he shot Gilbert a glare. Red eyes only twinkled humorously back at him, "decided to roofie me until it stopped bleeding."

"Oh?" Feliciano chuckled.

"Don't laugh!"

"Well, I mean, it's kind've funny," Feliciano said. Gilbert chuckled with a throw away "see, this is why I like him more than you."

"No, it's not. It's fucked up."

Feliciano made his way over to the TV and flicked it on. "Yeah, but sometimes things can be fucked up and funny. You being roofied is totally one of those things."

"In my defense it wasn't roofies." Gilbert plugged.

Feliciano just laughed again, busying himself with the VCRs. "Alright, you guys. We have a choice of  _The Man in the Santa Suit, A Hobo's Christmas_ , and—uh—no, this one looks like a scary one."

"'87, a year before Die Hard," Gilbert groaned.

"You know, for someone from the forties, you really know your twentieth century media."

Gilbert met Lovino's grumble with a grin. "Of course. It's the best time—classics. My day and age can't get over the fact that CGI keeps getting better. It's all explosions and very little plot. Not to mention the music. Acoustic or synthetic, very little in between."

"I'm going to choose if you two don't!"

"Uh, Dude in the Suit," Lovino offered quickly, turning back to his conversation with Gilbert. "So, what, you're one of those  _better on vinyl_  hipsters, then?"

"Do you have something against hipsters?"

Feliciano giggled, sitting back on the couch as the TV came to with its blotched film. "You should see him in his reading glasses. Looks just like one." The boy pressed into Lovino's side. Lovino could only frown. The connection was familiar. Movies and popcorn with coffee. A regular night; only for some reason his whole body responded to the simple action  _drastically_  differently. He feared his heart would give him away and that the urge to wrap an arm around the boy may win out over his silent curses. Quickly he kicked his feet up on the coffee table in front of him, taking in the old-school Pepsi commercial.

"Then that makes you a hypocrite."

"Just because I have glasses that make me look one way doesn't mean that I am that thing," Lovino groaned in defense. "Are  _you_  a ghost, Gilbert?"

"Oh, jeez, you've figured me out." Lovino rolled his eyes. "Hey, Lud! We're watching a movie, come join us," Gilbert offered as the taller blond made his way through the kitchen.

Feliciano perked up, looking over the couch. "Yeah, come on."

"I'm going to bed," Ludwig said. "I'll see you guys in the morning."

"Hey, Ludwig," Feliciano called.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

The tall blond sighed, but his tone was softer when he responded. "Yeah. Goodnight, Feliciano."

Feliciano settled down, pressing into Lovino's side a bit more as he got comfortable. "You guys get in a fight?" Lovino asked.

Feliciano shook his head. "It's a long story."

Lovino just nodded and let it pass, but he could feel Gilbert's stare suddenly catching him. When he rose to meet it Gilbert didn't look away. The albino motioned for Lovino to follow, getting up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen.

"Are you going to tell him?" Gilbert asked in a hush.

Lovino furrowed a brow. "Tell him what?"

"Your grand suicide scheme." Lovino didn't respond right away and Gilbert sensed the hesitation. "I told you, he's smart. And you really don't need to continue keeping secrets."

Lovino just sighed, shaking his head. "Yeah, but, no, not this. He'd bitch me out for sure."

"Then maybe your plan is dumb."

"Do you have a better one? Didn't think so. Just, leave it be."

Gilbert frowned after him as he left the kitchen. "What was that all about?" Feliciano asked as he returned.

"Long story," Lovino said teasingly, hoping the boy wouldn't keep up his questioning.

Feliciano pouted, punching him in the arm. "Butt," he muttered.

Lovino just laughed softly. The boy settled back in, his head pressing against Lovino's shoulder and arm as he stretched out his feet to dig into Gilbert's side.

"You take up a lot of space," Lovino groaned, putting his arm on the back of the couch as the kid's pinned cranium had caused the tingling sensation of a sleeping limb to spread.

Feliciano took it as an opportunity to cuddle in closer responding with a happy, "I missed you."

Lovino rolled his eyes despite the kid watching the TV and not him. The movie was pretty boring. Weird old man that Lovino was pretty sure played  _every_ old man in the movie, grandparents that acted less like grandparents and more like some Christmas acid rendition of the grandparents from Spy Kids, some math guy that could just pop the question (despite not even dating the chick. What was her name? Ah, who cared, she was essentially a less annoying Audrey from  _Little Shop of Horrors_ )—oh, and of course, the phrase  _the Christmas spirit_ was strewn in ten million times. The dull plot mixed with Feliciano's warmth and long string of happenings to create something stronger than Gilbert's sleep serum.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Okay, so because I'm wanting to fit all the Christmas shit in three chapters, they're gonna be longer than the other chapters, because there is a lot to cover with the new killer and all._

COMMENT! Who is your favorite serial killer? Mine is personally Ted Cruz.


	38. CHRISTMAS SPECTACULAR 2/3 (Trente-Huit)

Lovino started awake, unable to keep his screams at bay. The pain was back, in what should have been darkness everything glitched white and blue, moving in jerky movements around him. He fell to the floor, trying his hardest to dull out the pain by squeezing his head between open palms, but nothing worked and the pain seared. He could hear the worried cries above him, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Looking up he found that, like before, the world moved and unraveled but the people stayed the same. He shook his head, mouthing a desperate plea, but he was floored by another intense round of anguish. It felt that, like the world around him, his body was being torn apart and rewritten.

Feliciano wrapped him into a hug and Lovino used the boy's shoulder to stifle his hollered cries. Finally, it subsided, leaving Lovino a crying mess but ultimately relieved that everything settled back into darkness.

"Does he need another pill?" Feliciano asked Gilbert worriedly.

"What time it is?"

"I—there's a clock in the kitchen."

Lovino pulled away from Feliciano, scrubbing at his eyes. "I—" was all he could get out, shaking his head. A whisper of the pain.

"No," Gilbert announced from the kitchen, staring up at the clock on the wall. "He still has an hour before he can take another one."

"Where does it hurt?" Feliciano was asking, inspecting Lovino's head.

Lovino brushed his hands away. "I—I'm alright."

"This happened when we first came to the String."

"This—what is this?" Feliciano asked worriedly.

"This—I don't know," Lovino said furrowing his brows with a shake of his head. "It's weird. Everything looks…jumbled, I guess. And I get a really bad headache that fucking  _hurts_. And then it just all goes away, as if it had never happened at all."

Gilbert hummed. "Could be the String rewriting itself. You're part god, so you do have a connection with it. Maybe the String being rewritten while you're on it is what's affecting you."

"But that doesn't make sense. You guys said that the String rewrites itself all the time. I've never had  _this_  happen to me before."

Gilbert just shrugged. "Maybe it's because you didn't actually come into your powers until later. Most of your ancestors never came into theirs at all."

"Great," Lovino muttered, using the couch and coffee table to stand. "How often was it falling apart?"

The albino laughed. "Let's hope this case is over soon."

" _Great_."

It was the middle of the night. Feliciano showed Gilbert the cot that had been set up down stairs and broke into a closet with extra blankets. "Sorry, we had it set up for three people, not five." Feliciano was saying as he threw his arm's bundle down. "And I don't think Al would very much appreciate coming home to someone in his room."

"You're alright," Lovino sighed. He moved the table out and set up a bed on the floor.

"You sure you want the floor?"

"Used to it by now," Lovino chuckled, bunching up something of a makeshift pillow. It was a lot more comfortable than a jacket, at least. No buttons to dig into his cheek. It was easy enough to drift back to sleep, his body still beyond exhausted, but a small sound kept him awake. With a small groan he opened a single eye to try and catch what it was. "Are you crying?" he asked as softly as he could, just in case the boy on the couch was sleeping.

The boy sniffed with a stupid laugh. "No—No," he lied.

Lovino sighed into his arm before rubbing a knuckle across his eye lid and leaning onto his arm to catch Feliciano at eye-level. The kid smiled at him, but the corners of his lips seemed to be too deep and his eyes were still actively watering. "What's wrong?"

Feliciano shook his head and took a hand across his cheeks. He let his smile drop its extremity, replacing it with a smile that seemed to be fueled by the crying rather than any happiness. "I—I don't want to miss you again," he said pathetically.

Lovino quirked a brow with a light chuckle. "What kind of stupid reason is that to cry over?"

Feliciano laughed into his palm, "Oh, shush, you buttnugget."

"Buttnugget?" Lovino laughed.

The boy's laughing smile just fell and he stared, his lips pouting and his eyes blinking. Lovino stared back, lost. Lost as to why the kid was getting so emotional so suddenly, though the late hour was probably the biggest factor in it all, but also lost in a way that made it so that he couldn't tear his gaze away. "I don't want you to go," Feliciano whispered.

"I'm not going anywhere until this bastard is caught."

For the millionth time in the last year-and-however-long they'd known each other Lovino was tackled into a hug. Perhaps it was the second millionth time. Perhaps it was the first. Lovino chuckled, wrapping his arms around the boy's waist as he mumbled off childish insults.

"Hey, 'idiot' is in my jurisdiction," Lovino laughed.

Feliciano buried his face deeper into his neck. "You're the meanest person I know," he cried, his arms tightening.

"That means a lot, Fell, thank you."

"And you're dumb, and I hate that you're so stupid, and—and I hate you."

Lovino just laughed. "Love ya too," he said mockingly.

Feliciano sniffled, pulling away and putting their foreheads together with a stupid: "you're the worst, and you don't get along with enough people, and sometimes you're really lazy and—and I don't want you to go, Lovi. I—I don't—I don't want you to leave."

Everything about him was something Lovino had never seen before. It was all too different. His tears, his cries, his smiles, his touches. Lovino was at a loss of words, a loss of congruent thought, of breath. In his arms he held the only person he would die for. He held a person that didn't need his protection, but that would get it anyway. Not because Lovino felt that he could actually protect him, but because Lovino needed to feel that he could be a part of this difference, that he could keep a piece of it forever in his arms. That he could always stare into honest eyes, even if they were crying. It was strange, but Lovino would never in a million years ask for a less confusing feeling. Because he was never good with deciphering emotions, but Feliciano was, and he was good with words, and he was honest, and even if he was also an asshole that always got what he wanted, Lovino was okay with that. Because beyond everything else, Lovino wanted him to be happy. Tears of joy and smiles that didn't pout and quiver. Above all else Lovino just wanted him to be happy.

His pulse took to the sky.

Lovino could close the space between them. He wanted nothing more than to pull him close, to melt into him. Feliciano was already so near; he always was. Always so touchy. Hugs and hand holding and 'I love you's easy off the tongue. Lovino could play along. Lovino wanted to play along.

His hand rose to the nape of Feliciano's neck as he whispered his lips across the boy's forehead, trembling fingers light in auburn hair.

"Why don't we worry about this tomorrow? I'm tired."

Feliciano tightened his hug before letting him go with a nod. He forced Lovino to push out the couch and the two shared the floor, Feliciano insisting on it and Lovino only putting up fraudulent objection.

* * *

A sharp click brought to life an equally sharp light that seared into Lovino's face. He brought his free arm up to block it (the other being used as a pillow by asshole over there) with a groan.

"I'm going to presume you're the dickweed," the man holding the flashlight said above him. Lovino sat up in record time, turning towards the intruder that just chuckled and turned off his light. He held a plastic bag in one of his hands and pulled out a small package before throwing it down onto Feliciano's face. "Dicky brought some of these into the office. Thought you'd want once since you're decorating." He put his bag on the ground and started towards the kitchen. "And I picked up a few new movies," he called over his shoulder.

Feliciano groaned as he sat up, scrubbing at his face. "Thanks, Al," he yawned.

The man stooped down in the fridge, pulling out a beer and cracking it loudly. He leaned against the archway between the two rooms. "Lead was a dutz. Old man Montgomery is just that: old. I seriously doubt he had the strength to even walk to the bus on his own, much less kidnap a list of young women."

Lovino looked the man over. He wore an old-school blue police uniform with a gun and a small bat on his belt. His skin was dark but his face was young and his eyes, in the shadows of the living room, were black. He took a slug of his beer, which must have been the lot of it because he followed that up by crushing the can and throwing it onto the counter.

"Nice tree."

"I went to the church and they were have an auction. Unfortunately, Johnson didn't show. He hasn't been seen for a couple of days, I was thinking that we could look into it tomorrow. I got his address."

Alfred just shook his head. "Nah, that guy's got an alibi for all four murders. Air tight."

"That doesn't mean that he didn't do it. The bombs are likely remote-controlled, which means that anyone could be anywhere  _during_  the murders."

"Look into it if you want. Ludwig in bed?"

"Yeah."

He grouched something but dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Alright, don't make too much noise. Night."

"Goodnight, Al!"

He disappeared. "Fell, does he know about all the time-traveling shit?"

Feliciano hummed at him before nodding. "Yeah. We didn't mean to tell him, but he's really good at catching people in lies so we ended up telling him all about it."

"Won't that fuck up your future?"

Feliciano shrugged. "I don't remember anything differently—of course, I wouldn't know if anything was different if things changed before I was born, huh?"

"Guess not."

"Hey, look at this!" Feliciano cooed, holding up the object that Alfred had thrown at him. It was an over-decorated mistletoe still in the package. "I never even thought about getting one of these," he was saying as he opened it and scrambled to his feet. "Where should I put it?"

"I don't care," Lovino grumbled, laying back down.

Feliciano loomed over him, nudging Lovino with his foot. "Come on, get in the Christmas spirit. Christmas is on Friday, Lov," he whined.

"And what day is it?"

"Monday—er, Tuesday now, I guess."

Lovino flinched away from the crumbs of décor that fell from the mistletoe. "My Christmas spirit involves sleeping in, not trying to get people to make-out under a branch of poisonous berries."

Feliciano hummed. "Maybe I'll put it over Ludwig's door and be sure to wake up before him so that—"

"Give me that, you little shit," Lovino groaned, stealing away the branch.

Feliciano giggled after him as he walked to the archway. Looking up he found a good spot. "Get me a tack or something."

"Uh, I found tape?"

"Yeah, whatever." He reached up and pinned it in the middle of the archway and Feliciano quickly assisted by taping it. Lovino had to move his thumb in record time to keep from being taped to it. "There," he grumbled. "And because we're adults, no one is going to care that they get stuck under the mistletoe with someone."

Feliciano smirked at him. "You never know. Al would never try kissing me because I've already told him how much of a father figure he is to me, but he  _is_  totally gay."

"Black and gay? How the hell did he make it in the police force in the 80s?"

"I dunno, didn't tell anyone?"

"They're in for a surprise. 'You guys,'" Lovino said, attempting to mimic Alfred's voice, "'I'm black.'"

Feliciano laughed, pushing him and calling him a douche. "I'm just saying you gotta watch out. And I don't know, Gil totally seems like someone that would take to it."

"You sound hopeful," Lovino said with a glare.

Feliciano smirked at him leaning in a bit closer, placing a careful hand on Lovino's arm. Lovino found himself following the other's lead, dipping his head a little lower, his heart in his throat and—

"Conspiring under a mistletoe," Gilbert snickered, coming out from the door that lead to the basement.

Feliciano pulled away with a grin with a gentle. "Morning, Gilbert!"

Fuck, Lovino needed to get his shit together. Quickly he looked up and pretended to read the clock (actually, he did read the clock, it was a little after five) before walking to the sink and grabbing some water.

"Heard people walking around so I thought I'd come investigate and make sure no one was getting murdered. What are you guys up to?" Lovino could  _hear_  the smirk in the fucker's voice. He walked to the living room and wrestled out a pill.

"Al came home and woke us up," Feliciano shared.

Lovino was in horror when he saw Gilbert join Feliciano under the archway. The albino laughed at him when he choked on his water. "Hate to tell ya, Feli, but this isn't mistletoe," the pale man reached up and tore the taped branch down. "It's holly. Mistletoe has white berries."

"That sucks," Feliciano whined.

Gilbert just laughed. "You'll get 'em next time. So, does the day start now then?'

"Yeah, I don't think I could go back to sleep," Feliciano agreed.

Lovino groaned, setting down his cup. "It's only five, you guys."

"Murder never sleeps!" Gilbert declared dramatically. Feliciano shushed him with a giggle, telling him that Alfred was sleeping. The albino followed the information up with a whispered, yet more dramatic: "murder never sleeps!"

"I'll go get Ludwig up and we can have breakfast together. You guys are gonna love the cereal. I'm pretty sure they put actual crack in it. Alfred has a whole pantry of it."

"Crack  _in_  my cereal? That's a time saver!" Gilbert joked.

* * *

The four of them sat around the coffee table in the living room. Lovino and Feliciano sat on their makeshift bed, Lovino yearning for everyone to leave so that he could lay back down. The pain in his back had started up due to the couple hours between medicating, and he could  _really_  use a nap. Gilbert was on his third bowl of cereal and Feliciano seemed to be trying to match him.

Ludwig was buried in his file but looked up boredly every once in a while. One of these whiles he caught the sight of the holly branch on the table. He grabbed it curiously. "Holly?"

Gilbert was laughing at Feliciano as he was trying to distract Gilbert from eating while simultaneously trying to shove as much cereal in his mouth as possible to catch up. "Feli thought it was mistletoe."

"Oh."

Feliciano swallowed his mouthful. "Al brought it home with him."

"How do we know that this isn't Antonio," Lovino grumbled, balancing his chin on folded arms. "Anubis said he'd be here, and suddenly there's a new murderer? He could be behind them, or he could be using his  _Hollows_  to get these women to cult it up."

"To  _cult it up_?" Ludwig drew. Lovino glared at him with an ugly sneer. He really wasn't in the mood for the blond's shit.

"That'd be a good theory if these women all had a pattern of losing someone close," Feliciano shared, "but we've already checked. The closest to a loss was that Erickson's fiancé had recently broken up with her. The other three were in happy relationships and didn't seem to be too distraught over any losses."

"Yeah, but a loss of a parent or a grandparent or something else? People die all the time, so telling me that none of them had someone close die is ridiculous."

"I'm not saying that it's not possible, just not probable."

"Has there been any Antonio activity at all?" Lovino asked, furrowing his brows. Feliciano shook his head. "Weird." Lovino hummed into his arms. "He  _showed_  me that one girl—"

"Wy?"

"Yeah. He showed me her, and you say that you didn't find her at all?"

"No, we didn't."

"Well, maybe he's gone after her?"

"Why would he go after a little girl who has already been taken?" Ludwig asked dubiously.

"I don't know. Tell me why serial killers do anything!"

"We'll discuss all that later," Feliciano sighed. "For now we really need to catch the Collar Bomber before he strikes again."

Ludwig and Lovino made a silent, glaring truce.

"Did these women have anything in common, like a physician or anything? They must have all been seeing their doctors regularly. Maybe there's something there."

"Different hospitals," Ludwig sighed.

"Insurance?"

"Oh, that's a good one," Feliciano decided, pointing at Ludwig with a snap. "I'm pretty sure most people around here are on the same insurance policy. A worker uses his company to find women that fit the profile of being pregnant and right away gets their address and possibly even their trust. It could explain why there's been no signs of break-ins or struggle."

"No struggle?" Lovino asked.

"None. No outwardly bruising of any kind or anything. Well, aside from the  _bomb_."

"Weird."

"And if these women trusted the man hooking them up to the bombs, it would explain that."

Lovino shook his head. "Yeah, but would none of them struggle during or after placement of the bomb?"

"We suspect that they're told that if they oblige they'll be let go," Ludwig explained.

"It could be one of the reasons that the profile is after pregnant women. They may be more willing to go along to assure the safety of their child," Feliciano added.

"Are they all first-time mothers?" Gilbert asked.

"No. Three of them are, but the forth, Davidson, already had four kids."

"Four?"

"She was the oldest of the four women killed."

"Oh! Maybe the constant we're looking for is a single father between all kids!" Gilbert offered. "Some whore runs around, knocking up a bunch of chicks, and ends up going out and killing them because he can't let it get out because he's in some political office or something. He sends the notes to throw you off his trail, making it seem like there's more to the murders than the kids."

"I mean, it's possible," Feliciano offered weakly. "But very unlikely."

"Anyone test the DNA to see who the father of the kids is?"

"Forensics in this day and age are guess and check  _at best_. I wouldn't base anyone's innocence or guilt off it," Feliciano sighed.

"Not to mention," Ludwig said, "the fact that I doubt any politician is going to offer a sample of their DNA to check to see if he's the father to a bunch of murdered children."

Gilbert nodded with tight hums. "Okay, well you said there was a lead last night—"

Feliciano shook his head.

"Oh, alright. Well then who else do we have to interrogate."

"We're not interrogating anyone," Ludwig said quickly. "This isn't work for the Confraternity. We have to play by the books."

"What! That's no fun. Not to mention extremely redundant!"

"It's how it is this time, Gil."

Gilbert groaned, visibly punctured by the news.

"So then where do we go from here?" Lovino asked. "Fell, you were saying something about a Johnson?"

Ludwig sighed.

"Yeah, he's pretty big at the church right now, but in a few years he will be arrested and sentenced for the murder of his pregnant wife. I was thinking that maybe us being here caused something in him to come out early and that maybe his murder of his wife wasn't one of passion but one that was fully meditated."

"Okay, yeah, that sounds like a great lead," Lovino agreed, furrowing his brows, confused as to why Ludwig was acting like it was a bad idea.

"Feliciano," Ludwig said under his breath, "we've been over this. The crime that you're going over was an abuse case. He killed his wife by beating her in the head with a flashlight. Advanced bombs and Neanderthal tendencies are two very different points on the spectrum."

"I know but—"

"Not to mention that we've already looked into it. Alfred and his partner got a warrant and found  _nothing_. He had an alibi for every murder, and if it wasn't for a crime that's going to happen in a couple years, there's nothing even circumstantial on him."

Feliciano groaned. "We don't have much more to go off of, Ludwig!"

Gilbert cleared his throat. "Well, we can start with what you guys know about the bombs. I've discovered that they're controlled by timer, not remote, but that was the best I could get."

Ludwig sent Feliciano one last look before turning fully to his brother. "We know that they're used by the Columbian mob. These designs could have been inspired by a news or magazine article done on them, or they could be the products of an old mobster, or perhaps its just coincidence. That's all that we know about the make of them, and the bomb team picked up just as much as you did on basis of detonation."

"Well, mob could be a lead," Lovino tried. His opinion was met with scrutinized silence. He sighed. He really should stop trying to play detective. He closed his eyes and listened to the others talk in circles. They all seemed to keep their voices level and low, and soon Lovino found himself falling asleep at the table. Feliciano nudged him away and he grumbled a curse at him, but the kid was persistent (and had started pinching) so he raised his head to rejoin the conversation after sending Feliciano a weak glower. Feliciano just frowned back, scratching at his nose and looking a bit irritated.

"He has a background in mechanics, or maybe he's previously worked in the Military or some other job that dealt with bomb disposals. The profile based on the notes is someone that feels they have the right to the murders, which could indicate that he'd be extremely calm approaching the women and even afterwards. There is also a good deal of isolation that has to go into this, whether that be for a workshop or livelihood, so though he's cool he may also be a recluse socially."

"Or perhaps overly friendly to the point of isolation," Lovino yawned.

" _Oh officer, I would never believe that he could do such a thing_ ," Gilbert tittered under his breath.

"Perhaps," Ludwig agreed. "But he—"

"You know," Gilbert said pointedly, "have you guys even considered that this could be done by a woman?" There was a short silence, but Gilbert likely didn't notice. "The crime is done by a device, which means that we're not looking for some abnormally strong female, just a normal one."

"And it would help explain why the women are seemingly so willing to go along with everything," Feliciano agreed.

"But it's been a man that's been seen at the scene of all four crimes," Ludwig argued.

"Maybe we're looking for a tag team," Gilbert pointed out.

"Or maybe it's just a coincidence. Wrong place, wrong time," Lovino elaborated.

"Yeah!" Feliciano said with a bounce of excitement. "And it would explain why the note sent to the police was different in tone. Maybe she was angry that the police weren't considering a female suspect."

"Eighties, what a great time to be a serial killer," Gilbert sighed with a small smirk being pressed into his palm.

"I think the thirties were better," Feliciano pointed out.

"Ew, Tuberculosis."

Feliciano giggled. "Alright, so, let's shift the profile to a woman. Maybe a common daycare assistant that all the women were looking into?"

"Wouldn't Davidson already have a babysitter in place?" Ludwig pressed back.

"Well, maybe she needed a new one—"

"And I'm pretty sure that she's a stay-at-home mom."

" _Alright_ , then maybe they all shopped at the same baby clothes store. Or maybe they all bought a single type of crib or mobile or stroller."

"Maybe she's a nurse?" Lovino asked.

"No," Ludwig shot, "they all went to different hospitals."

"Yeah, I got that. But say that they were all approached by a woman claiming to be a nurse or something. They take a liking to her, invite her for whatever-the-fuck people due during the eighties, and then they end up getting strapped to a bomb."

Feliciano shook his head. "I don't know. People don't just invite strangers in—" he trailed off before shooting Ludwig a look. "Unless—"

Ludwig nodded. "Davidson's husband had mentioned that she had all four of her previous children at home."

"And even if the others weren't  _planning_  to, that can't mean that they hadn't looked into it!" Feliciano cooed excitedly.

Lovino blinked between the two. He cleared his throat. "So, uh, nurse?"

"No, midwife." Feliciano said, standing up. "We can check tack-boards around town to see if we can find any advertisements. Maybe a newspaper. Uh, perhaps the hospitals give a list of recommended midwifes. If we could find a woman that's on all the hospitals lists, then we have a suspect!" Ludwig stood after him and Feliciano put out his hand with a light laugh. Ludwig sighed and the two shook hands.

"This isn't concrete."

"Best we've had so far. Let's catch this bastard!" Feliciano grinned. "Oh! And I can pick up some lights while I'm out. Okay, Lud, which one sounds better? White or colorful. And do you want the outside to match the tree?"

Ludwig was picking up the dishes. "I already told you that we don't celebrate Christmas."

"I know, but that doesn't mean that you can't enjoy it." Feliciano picked up his and Lovino's bowl and jumped around Lovino to get out and follow Ludwig to the kitchen. "I just want your opinion. Please," the kid drew out the word annoyingly.

Lovino shot a look at Gilbert. "What are you, Jewish?"

Gilbert quirked a brow at him. "That hit to the ground didn't give you a concussion, did it?"

"Oh. Right." Lovino laughed lightly, finally being able to spread out on the bedding behind him. It was so much more comfortable than sitting or standing or being alive. Lovino just wanted to go back to sleep. He closed his eyes and listened as the two in the other room continued talking.

"Your opinion matters to me, Lud, please."

The taller blond must have sighed because behind running water there was a lapse of silence. "I don't really care—"

"White or colorful. Or they may even have just all blue."

"Why don't you just choose?" Another line of silent dialogue. Lovino could feel his stomach quench when he imagined the look Feliciano must have been giving him. Fuck, why wasn't he sleeping? Why did he give a shit what the dog had to say about Christmas lights? "Colorful for outside, white for inside." The blond's voice was soft, almost intimate. Lovino just screwed his eyes tighter. He hated that stupid fucking blond, and he knew that he did, because he was condescending and had a stick three feet up his ass. He was overly critical and compared to Gilbert dull. He was a child when it came to the idea of trust, but he still seemed to follow orders and brush off things that had actual risks like the Renegade. He—he was a bastard and Lovino hated him.

Lovino hated the way Feliciano looked at him. Hated the way Feliciano talked to him like they had been friends forever. Because they hadn't. They had barely known each other, damn it! Sure, Feliciano was often times overly-friendly off the bat with…well with everyone. Fuck, the first day Lovino had worked with him when the kid had told him he loved him. Lovino already knew that the kid was a people person. So, what was different here with Ludwig?

Lovino didn't get a chance to figure it out before he was getting kicked in the head.

"What the fuck?" he demanded, holding his head and shooting a glare upwards.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to kick you so hard!" Feliciano gushed.

"You're abusive, you know that?" Lovino groaned.

"There should be some extra jackets in the closet. If not we'll stop by a thrift store and pick some up," Ludwig said.

"Thanks, Luddy," Feliciano cooed, stuffing a gun in the back of his pants before shrugging on a coat of his own, concealing the weapon in its entirety. The boy shot a look down at Lovino who could only stare. "Well? Get up."

Lovino scrambled to his feet.

* * *

Lovino shook out a pill, sinking deeper into the collar of his jacket. It wasn't snowing yet, but it was fucking  _cold_. Taking his hands out of his pockets just for the simple act of getting a pill killed him. He swallowed it dry before returning to the warmth of the seamed pocket.

Gilbert climbed out of the beat down vehicle that Alfred was letting Feliciano and Ludwig use during their time there. The door whined with every movement.

It was busy on the roads this morning. A few buildings around them dawned Christmas decorations. The four of them had been to three hospitals already, only one had actually given them a list as the others were small private offices that didn't recommend midwifes. They now stood in front of the Child's hospital. It was much larger than the other three, with multiple entrances and a lane that was reserved for ambulances only. They had parked on the southside which advertised a large MATERNITY WARD sign. Feliciano considered his new  _fake_  police badge as they made their way along the concrete sidewalk and to the swinging glass doors of the hospital.

As the other times, Gilbert and Lovino held back outside as Ludwig and Feliciano made their way in. Lovino leaned against the concrete wall with a sigh. His breath fogged in front of him.

The early morning was getting considerably lighter than it had been at seven when they left. It was still a bit dreary, however, under the clouds that swirled threateningly above them. Cars dotted the hospital's parking lot and a few people were walking in, their hands in their pockets and chins tucked in scarfs or upturned collars. Another small group a few paces down the wall were chattering while entertaining their cigarettes. It was strange to Lovino to see people smoking on property of a child's hospital, but he quickly reminded himself of the times and let it slide.

Feliciano and Ludwig were back. Feliciano grinned at them. "Alright, so we have two lists now!"

"More than one," Gilbert encouraged, offering a theatric thumbs up. "Can we get back to the car, now?"

Feliciano laughed and nodded his head.

The four of them shuffled back into the car, Gilbert and Lovino squished in the back while Ludwig took the wheel.

"Alright, we'll stop by the mall and then head back to the house." Feliciano said. "Here, Gil, you can start cross checking if you'd like." He handed two folders back to him. The albino took it in his lap greedily, flipping the binds open.

"These things aren't alphabetical."

"No, they're not."

He groaned, sitting a bit further back in his seat as the car lurched forward.

As the car rolled, so did Feliciano's mouth. He talked and talked about just  _everything_ he could think about, flicking the dash in a steady beat as he went along. Lovino rested his head against the window humming a "yeah" or something similar when Feliciano would direct a question or whatever at him. He seemed to be excited. Mostly about solving the case but also about what he deemed to be the  _greatest time of the year_. It was ridiculous how his mind jumped. Murder to eggnog and back again. His talking, of course, encouraged Gilbert to join in with jokes. The both of them were a lot of attention whores, Lovino decided.

The constant talking continued when the car was parked and when they made their way into the cold once more.

The mall was fucking  _decked_. Trees around the property were covered in lights that weren't currently on due to the time of day, as were the countless signs that advertised countless holiday sales. The four of them followed the sidewalk to the double doors that took them into the actual building. It was a two-story with open balconies looking down onto the lower floor. The ceiling was domed and let natural light in through countless glass panes. A large fountain took up the center of the area with benches dotted around the area. A group of people in Christmas hats were handing out fliers to sit on some old fucker's lap. Countless stores were advertised by large signs, and further down in each direction were large decorative trees. Colorful tinsel hung from the balconies, joined by large groups of garlands.

"There's a lot of people here," Lovino muttered, staring onto the scene of bustling groups and people already dressed in accessoried shopping bags.

"It's three days before Christmas, of course there's lots of people," Feliciano said with a light laugh.

"Let's be in and out of here," Ludwig sighed. "We have a lot to do."

Feliciano nodded. "Alright. I was thinking that Sears should have what we're looking for, so let's just head over there!"

"Do you really need all of us to go with you?" Ludwig asked.

Feliciano shook his head. "No, you guys can go wait in the car if you want to. I promise I'll be quick!"

Ludwig turned around to leave. He was almost to the door when a loud cry broke over the loud chatterings of the mall. Another cry sounded, and then everyone was yelling and backing away from the fountain.

The four of them all shared a pensive look before pushing against the crowd that forced their way to the exit. Breaking into the open the lot of the stopped.

A woman with tears streaming down her face stood there, a device strapped to her neck and a sign that read: I have a bomb.

And to top it all off? The searing pain of the String rewriting itself tore through Lovino's body. He tried to bite back his screams as Gilbert rushed forward.

"Someone call the cops!" Ludwig screamed.

Feliciano fell to Lovino. The whole world bounced and jutted. He looked up to Feliciano, focusing on how he was still and normal. Something just beyond the boys shoulder caught his attention, however. Through the pain he looked.

The crowd of people were normalized. Everyone except one person. Her features jutted and fell apart, making her stick out terribly against the backdrop of people she concelled herself in.

"Feliciano—" Lovino choked, speaking beyond impossible as the drill decorated his skull. "The murder—She's—" he raised his finger and pointed.

The stringy girl caught his stare and his finger. Before Feliciano could even react, she was pushing through the crowd. Feliciano stood, but he hesitated. "Go!" Lovino demanded, balling his fists against the ground and pressing his forehead to the ground, trying not to scream in front of everyone. He bit down on his hand, relishing in the tears, afraid of the feeling that started in his gut and drew along his skin. He had an audience, damn it.

All of his thoughts went into not breaking, not letting his powers spread. He held his breath and his tears. A few strangers came to help him. For what felt like forever he groveled on the tiled ground, strange hands rubbing his back and strange voices asking him what was wrong. He heard one of them say that an ambulance was on the way and could do nothing but cut off a string of curses.

Finally, the weight let up and he was able to breathe.

"Fuck," he groaned, rising to his hands.

"Are you alright, sir?" a man asked him. Lovino just brushed him off.

"Did you see which way—which way my friend went?" He pointed, and when Lovino stood insisted on him resting. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine," Lovino grunted. He looked back to Gilbert and Ludwig.

Gilbert was checking out the bomb furiously, a grin glinting on his features and his eyes alight with pure joy. The woman was balling, still holding the sign in front of herself as if she were beyond shell-shocked. Gilbert gave a wonderous holler as he unclasped the device. Like the douche he was, he seemed to show it to the crowd in his triumph. Of course, the people entertained him with a loud round of applause. The woman fell into Ludwig's arms, finally dropping the sign and holding onto him in a mess. The fountain behind them sputtered innocently.

Lovino, deciding that they had everything under control, turned and started through the crowd in the direction that the man had pointed. He had to stop and ask people for new directions, and thankfully everyone had been attentive enough to point him in the right direction. He flew up the stairs to the second floor, but here the directions got fuzzier and he had to guess.

"Did you see a woman and a brunet run through here?" Lovino demanded.

"Uh, maybe?"

That wasn't helpful!

Quickly he ran down the hall, dodging people left and right. He got to the end of the store and cursed. A neon Exit sign stared down at him and he decided to take his chances, running down the concrete staircase and out of the door that warned of an alarm.

Breaking into the cold he looked around. A few people littered the area but none of them were Feliciano or the mystery woman.

"Hey, did any of you guys see a woman run through here?'

"No, but a guy just ran out," someone offered, taking a deep drag off their cigarette.

"Which way did he go?"

So, Lovino was off once more. He found himself glancing down every ally he passed. Cars passed him in a hurry. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he growled to himself, slowing to a stop and spinning around. Had he missed something? Had they gone into another building?

"Stop there!"

His heart lurched and his feet were at it again. Across the street Feliciano stood with his back to him, his gun out and pointing upwards. The woman had stopped, half-way up a fire escape that was on the side of one of the buildings. A car passed between them, stirring the scene.

"Now come down with your hands visible!"

Lovino sighed. It seemed his friend had the upper hand in the situation. The fire escape creaked as the girl made her way down slowly. Lovino looked both ways, waiting for a good time to cross the street.

By the time he looked back up, his relaxing pulse turned on him. It all happened too quickly. One moment her hands were out and she was slowly stepping down the stairs, the next she was jumping down, her movements quick enough and expected enough that when she pulled out her own gun Feliciano didn't react quick enough.

Lovino didn't put any effort to holding his powers back. He ran forward, swinging his arm upwards and the pounding of his heart impossible to ignore. Just as a loud shot rang out a black wall rose from the ground, forming into a dome around Feliciano. The bullet hit and Lovino was physically forced backwards, but he didn't let the shield fall.

When he did, the woman was gone.

Feliciano looked to him in surprise. "Lovino—"

"Are you alright?" Lovino asked.

Feliciano looked down the ally. "Yeah." He let out a sound between a groan and a sigh. "Almost had her!"

Lovino laughed. "You almost got fucking shot is what you did."

"What's this?" the boy bent down, picking up what looked to be a dart. He handed it over to Lovino.

"A dart?" he asked.

"It looks like a sterilizer," Feliciano muttered back.

"Were there any drugs found in the murder victims?"

Feliciano shook his head. "No, none at all."

"Weird."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Fuck, we have a LOT to cover next chapter. Sorry if it's fucking long. But, I told you guys three and you guys are gonna get THREE._

_Guess who is hella sick and prolly on her deathbed. Meeeeee. Yaaaaaayy. I miss breathing through my nose._

_I got some eggnog mix because people don't actually sell eggnog until December, and I'll rate it in the next chapter for everyone like me who could literally drink eggnog just all year round._

_You know, I've been thinking, and I've decided that my favorite thing about this fic is that it's brought in a lot of educated readers. Idk, I just really like that I feel I can have a real discussion with you guys. We all have differing opinions and writing styles and whatever, but I love it so much because that's really what this community is all about. I think that's why I decided to come back to Hetalia, because we might not be getting a lot of new people, but I'm totally okay with that because it means that the people that are active are people that have, like, grown up, or are growing up, you know? Idk, but I'mma use this as a segue to:_

_Shout out to_ **PikaPika68** _. She's really a wonderful reader, and goodness is she getting dangerously close to predicting the climax. She's also been teasing writing some of her own fics, and I haven't asked what her current project is about because I'm hoping it'll be out before I leave and I like being surprised, but I'm totally crossing my fingers and hoping that we're getting a new Itacest writer. We really need more epic and plot based itacest shit, you guyssss._

_Oh, and Raider, when you are able to make an account, and maybe even one day write a little, I think you should totally hit up Mrs. Pik. I have a feeling deep in my bones that you two would be great pals (((:_

_Does anyone do Discord? Because it'd be cool if we had a server to fuck off on._

COMMENT! Uhm, dog or cat?


	39. CHRISTMAS SPECTACULAR 3/3 (Trente-Neuf)

Alfred threw multiple copies of the same file down to the group. They had been dragged into the precinct for questioning as prime witnesses to the attempted bombing almost twenty hours prior to this moment, and Alfred was taking advantage of their situation to catch them up. They all sat at a large round table, cups of coffee and water forgotten as the image of a woman stared up at all of them. A board behind Alfred was cluttered with old theories and attempted connections that were ultimately X'ed out.

Lovino rose his head from the table when Alfred smacked him with a rolled-up folder and started his speech.

"Our victim's name is Angela Thomas, and she claims that this woman is Julia Roberti. She said that she found an ad in the local newspaper for a daycare service. We ran the name and came up with nothing. Running her against missing persons, though, we got a hit: Elizabeth Blackwood, a current runaway from an asylum in Nebraska. We were able to get them to fax over their records. The image has been confirmed by the victim to be the woman that apprehended her."

Feliciano nodded. "Yeah, that's her."

"Wait, but I don't get it," Lovino said, flipping through the paperwork as quickly as possible. "She was  _different_. We—This—We're not looking for some human gone mad! We're looking for a—for a thing." He felt silly trying to explain himself. Sighing he closed his folder. "And it can't be that she was different because her path or whatever changed, making her come here. Everyone's fucking path changed in that mall. I doubt the first draft included trying to get out of the mall due to some bomber fuck. So, she has to be— _something_ else."

Ludwig sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling. "A  _Hollow_  perhaps. You were warned that Antonio would be here, and we haven't seen any sight of him. Maybe this is one of those cases."

Lovino shook his head. "No, I can see  _Hollows_. She wasn't one. She looked like a regular person for the most part."

"The creatures that are attached to the string wouldn't be  _rewritten_  by the string," Gilbert said. "I don't think that, if this were a vamp or a  _Hollow_  or anything, that it would stand out during one of Lovino's episodes."

"I don't know." Lovino muttered, recalling the pain. He's never looked in the mirror, but it certainly felt like he was being pulled apart. Still, Gilbert had a point. "Maybe these hallucinations aren't the string then. They could be caused by something else."

"Like what?"

"I don't—" Lovino was cutting off by Alfred.

"Listen, we're going to treat all this like a regular case," Alfred decided. "As far as I'm concerned, we're looking for a human; understand, dickweed?"

Lovino clenched his jaw, fist ready on the table to up and attack the fucker. The lack of sleep mixed wonderfully with the fucked up situation that they found themselves in. Lovino wasn't going to throw a punch, though. Not the first one, anyway. "Brush off evidence," he sneered under his breath, "no wonder kids keep going missing under your jurisdiction."

"What was that?" Alfred demanded coming forward. Lovino stood to meet him, but Feliciano held his arm back and Ludwig was quick to become an obstacle in Alfred's way.

"We're all tired," Feliciano snapped, his tone just as irritated as the rest of theirs, "fighting is going to do no good but waste time."

"Pretending that this is just some nut job fresh out of a loony bin is going to do nothing but waste time!" Lovino insisted.

"Oh, and what am I supposed to do with your  _conclusive_ information? Where do you suggest we look?  _Fantasia_?"

Gilbert let off a small, nostalgic sigh. "Good movie, good movie."

"I suggest that we don't underestimate her!"

"Who here is underestimating the woman strapping bombs to people!"

"You certainly are! If you weren't you'd be out there looking for her! Not telling us about her god damn medical history! It's not going to have a current fucking address in there. Did she leave a note? Hmm? Did she draw a map in fucking blood before she dipped?"

"Lovino!" Feliciano yelled, pulling his arm back harshly and causing Lovino to hiss when his shoulder popped at the strange angle. "Shut up and sit down. You're being a baby!"

"Thank you, Fe—"

"Alfred, take into consideration what he's saying. He's right. There's something weird going on here. The only reason Ludwig and I ever showed up here was to make sure  _you_ weren't going to get killed. Keep that in mind!" He rubbed his eye with a flare of irritation. "Let's just all  _get along_  before another woman is murdered! Two months, you guys! Name another seral killer that killed four people in two months without showing any sign of mental deterioration or ending point! Human or not, she's dangerous! Now  _stop_   _bickering_!"

As Lovino was sitting, Feliciano hissed a sharp: "stop causing problems," in his ear. Lovino turned to glare at him, but the boy's face held no room for humor. His lips were tight, and his eyes were set and almost even dangerous. Lovino clenched his jaw and turned back to his file.

"I don't get it," Gilbert said easily, the idea of awkward silence something his studies must have not ever taught him, "it says here that she was self-admitted. Doesn't that give her the right to leave whenever she wants?"

"Keep reading," Alfred sighed, composing himself with dismal hand scrubbing down his face. "She self-admitted herself in fear of suicidal tendencies, but in '83 they tried to release her. She threw a fit and ended up stabbing one of the nurses in the throat with a pen, killing her. They moved her to a high-security asylum after the trial."

"This doesn't fit the profile of a cool-headed serial killer," Feliciano said, shaking his head. "How does her motivation change from wanting to not kill herself to suddenly meditating highly advanced bombs and killing pregnant women?"

"And what brought her  _here_?" Ludwig pitched.

"It's possible that she has a friend here that's housing her," Alfred explained. "We've put out an ad with her picture, hoping to catch a lead. This case is under high security, and thanks to this mall episode the state is coming in full force."

"Are you going to lose your jurisdiction?" Feliciano asked.

Alfred nodded. "Already have. It's why Dickie isn't here."

"Then why are we discussing this here?" Ludwig asked, lowering his voice.

Alfred chuckled, shaking his head, and thumbing through his file. "Because if anyone gives a shit about me doing my job then they can take it up with me personally."

"You could lose your job, Al," Feliciano warned.

Alfred quirked a brow at him. "They've been looking for a reason to take my badge since day one. They'll find something sooner or later, and if me not sitting back to let some overpaid assholes from the state screw everything up is the nail in the coffin, then let it be. They didn't give a shit about this case when it was just women dying in the street. Do it in a mall and it's suddenly terrorism. Take it down when it's small or fuck off."

"Still, we should change our location," Ludwig sighed, standing. "We could all get in trouble for going over information. Especially with two  _civilians_."

"Yeah, detective Jones, I'm really not looking into losing my own badge," Feliciano decided, standing himself. "We could brief on our own and find out what we can from the public. We have a picture and at least one of her aliases." He sucked in a deep breath before attempting to replace the hostility on his face with a forced smile. "Best lead we've had so far."

"Wait, does this mean that we're off the books?" Gilbert asked, red gleefully alight.

Ludwig hesitated before answering. "Yes."

"We could split up," Feliciano said, grabbing his stuff.

"Three badges, three groups," Alfred agreed. "I'll go out on my own."

"No," Feliciano said quickly. "This could possibly be Antonio."

"Can we all just slow down a minute," Lovino groaned. "None of us have slept in over twenty-four hours."

"I'll go with Lud. You guys don't even need to come along. We've got this!"

"I'll go on my own," Feliciano said. "I need to go back to the mall, anyway. Still need lights."

"Do you have your gun?"

"Yeah," Feliciano laughed. "And don't worry, Lov, I'll stay on my guard better this time."

"I can't trust that."

The boy shrugged.

"Alright, then. You have the mall, you two take the central area. I guess Lovino and I will go door-to-door."

"Door to door?" Lovino demanded, still bitter that his nap plan had been brushed off without a word.

"If she is staying with someone, maybe we'll find her."

Lovino groaned. "We can't just run around this city blindly."

"We're not going blind. There's an address on the daycare ad." Lovino frowned at him as he seemed to take a smug victory in his silence.

"We only have two vehicles."

"I don't need a car if I'm sticking around the mall."

"We'll drop you off, then," Ludwig said with a nod. "What time do you want us to pick you up?"

"We should all have a meeting point and time," Alfred agreed.

"What time is it?"

Alfred glanced down at his watch. "Six."

"In the morning?" Lovino groaned.

"You're whiney," Alfred observed.

Feliciano laughed, and Lovino shot him a sharp look. "Let's meet at noon then, see what everyone's figured out."

"We'll meet up at the mall."

"Great." Alfred grabbed his coat and shrugged it on before securing his gun in his holster. He paused. "Lovino, do you need a gun?"

"Excu—isn't that illegal?'

"To let you borrow one of my personal guns?"

"Yes. That. It's illegal."

"Do you need one or not?'

Lovino shook his head. "No, I'm sure I can manage." If worse came to worse, he would just use his powers. He still hadn't been able to figure out how to create a projectile and bringing a knife to a gun fight was silly, but he had his shield.

"Gilbert?"

"Nah," the albino brushed off. "I'll be done kicking their ass before they even pull the trigger."

The five of them quieted as they made their way out of the briefing room and into the office that broke into the hallway and out the door. The wind had picked up, causing the cold air to seem worse as it licked under collars and attacked bare skin. Alfred's vehicle was parked with the other marked police cars while his personal one was still on the curb. They stopped in front of the gate of the outside garage.

"You all need to keep your eyes out for an accomplice, as well. Feli, you're right to question the profile. She doesn't fit."

"And we can't do anything too drastic," Ludwig warned. "Everything that is happening right now is changing the future. Lovino, don't go waving your powers around. We need to do this as quickly as possible."

"Mall at noon."

"Mall at noon." Alfred repeated, turning to the keypad that would unlock the gate to the police cruisers. With a mighty groan the old mechanical gate started to open on rusted wheels. Just before Lovino was able to follow the cop in, a light hand caught his wrist.

He sighed, turning around to Feliciano. "I'll try not to fight with him," he muttered.

The boy's eyes just danced between his. They almost looked sad, quiet, maybe a little bit pissed off, but Lovino couldn't imagine why. He was so strange. So impossibly strange. "Just be careful."

Lovino nodded, swallowing past the questions that caught in his throat. "You too."

"Feli, let's go!" Gilbert called as he tore open the door to shotgun. "We don't have all day!"

Feliciano shook his head, ignoring the albino and muttering a quiet: "please don't be an idiot."

Lovino blinked at him. There it was again. Why did Feliciano intend on breaking character? He never used to call Lovino an idiot. He would joke, say other little insults or try to kill him with kindness—also known as being hella passive aggressive—but now he stood here, calling him an idiot and looking like—like something. Something, but what? Did Lovino miss something? He must have.

Lovino just did his best to feign a laugh. The sadness a questioned loop in his head. Though, of course, his head due to the long hours flicked and felt heavy, so he was probably just over thinking things. It was cold. No one ever looked happy in the cold. "You should be worrying about yourself, bastard. Focus on your work and don't get yourself fucking shot."

Feliciano laughed. "I'll try my best."

Lovino sighed dramatically. "Don't scare me. We both know that's not enough."

Feliciano pushed him, a throw away "shush. You're the one making enemies left and right!"

"And yet the only two times I've ever been in a situation where I could have gotten shot are because of you."

Feliciano entertained an empty eyeroll, almost as if their light banter had helped relieve the stress of the situation. Lovino looked behind when he heard Alfred's car start.

"See ya at noon. I wouldn't put it past that bastard to run me over."

"He's a good guy."

"Yeah, yeah. If we left it up to you everyone would be a good guy. See ya at noon."

"Be careful."

" _Bye_."

Feliciano just laughed and left. Lovino shook his head and turned into the next six hours that he was positive would kill him.

"I'm going to stop for food before we head over," Alfred was saying as he got into the car. "I'm thinking McDonalds."

Lovino sighed.

* * *

"I just don't understand why you got six, is all."

"What, they're small."

"They're—" Lovino cut himself off, deciding it best not to continue talking about the inhumane amount of food Alfred was attempting to inhale. Or, rather, succeeding. One of his hands were wrapped around a breakfast sandwich with his forearm resting against the wheel, while the other toggled with the police scanner. A voice jumped on, staticky and listing off numbers that Lovino didn't understand.

"Listen for a 10-89," Alfred directed.

They finally pulled into a parking lot of an enclosed apartment complex. Alfred crushed his final wrapper and threw it in the bag before following it up with the rest of his coffee. "A'ight, ya ready to get in there?" he asked, not waiting for an answer as, with a flash of energy, he opened his door and pushed himself out.

Lovino followed with much less gusto. The black man fixed the blue coat he wore as they came to the press-pad that would call up to the room they were requesting access to. He placed a squared hat on his head as he dug in his pocket. "Keep on your toes, dickweed." He pressed the button labeled by the name  _Bruno Marquez_. A sharp buzz broke into the ambiance of the rolling cars and open windows.

" _Hello?_ " A man's voice.

"Bruno?" Alfred read.

" _Yes?_ "

"I'm detective Jones working with the Lawrence Police Department. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

There was a tense pause. " _What is this about, sir?"_

"I will gladly explain if you let me in or come out."

"What is she's there?" Lovino quietly hissed. Alfred dismissed him.

Another tight, less staticked, sharper buzz sounded.  _"Come up."_

They took the stairs because Alfred seemed to not be able to sit still long enough for the elevator. Lovino had to wonder whether they were given different types of coffee. Or what exactly his was fucking laced with. Because at that moment  _Lovino wanted some_. Thankfully the apartment they were looking for was on the first floor.

With a closed fist Alfred banged on the door. Almost immediately the sound of chains rapped against the door. A man appeared, hair shaved close to his head. He wasn't wearing a shirt and advertised the build of a short man growing around the waist in his age. His eyes looked tired and Lovino realized that they had woken him up. "Can I see your badge, please?" the man asked.

Alfred offered up the information quickly.

"And yours?"

"This is a colleague of mine. He's also a witness to the crime that we're hoping you don't have any involvement in. May we come in?"

The man moved aside, allowing the other two in. The apartment immediately opened to a living room and open-barred kitchen. Both of which were disgusting; littered with trash and thrown off clothing and old food. Lovino felt a bit uncomfortable in the mess as they took a seat on a red stained couch. A TV was blearing in the background; a commercial at the moment. Lovino was honestly intrigued by it.

"Want anything to drink?" the man grunted, digging into his fridge. Lovino shook his head clear of the old advertisement.

"No, we're fine," Alfred said, professionalism overtaking his tone.

The man just let off another grunt, rising with a soda pop can and slamming the fridge shut. The clutter that was on top of the refrigerator chattered to life before immediately falling silent again. The man fell into the arm chair across from the couch.

"So, what are you two thinking I did?" Bruno asked, his eyes closing to slits.

"Your address was found in an ad that has been associated with a woman claiming to be a daycare service provider. This woman so far has murdered four people. We want to know if you have any associations with someone claiming to be Julia Roberti or Elizabeth Blackwood, or, if anyone has come to this address looking for someone under the name."

"Roberti, yeah. But, no one has come to my door but you two."

"What do you mean?"

The man put his can down on the cluttered coffee table between them and snorted an ugly sound through his nose as he stood up. "Someone called here looking for a Roberti. Didn't give me the opportunity to tell them that they had the wrong number, though, before they started talking. I took the message just in case it was another resident in the building. Haven't had a chance to check."

"When did this message come in?" Alfred asked, intrigued as the man flipped through a notepad he had secured from the rubble.

"Yesterday morning sometime. Woke me up. Here it is."

Lovino could feel his jaw tightened when he read what was written:

_Tell Roberti that the baby's going to be ready soon_

"That's all they said. Repeated it a couple of times, so it must be important."

"Was this the wording that they used?" Alfred demanded.

"What do you mean?"

"It says that the baby is going to be  _ready_ soon."

"Oh, yeah. That's what they said."

"Was it a man or a woman that was speaking?" Alfred asked quickly.

"Lady. She sounded sick, though. I just assumed that she was the one having the kid."

Alfred quickly pulled out the woman's photo. "Have you seen this woman at all? Around town or even around the premises?"

Bruno took a long look. "She's average, isn't she?" he said, handing back the photo. "I don't know. I might have, I might not have. There's a lot of girls around here with brown hair. Anyway, I've never been great with faces."

Alfred nodded. "Alright, thank you for your information."

"Is that all you needed?"

Alfred was already standing. He put out his hand formally. "Yes, that's all. Thank you. If she comes by or if you get anymore strange calls, please give me a call right away." He extended his card.

Lovino and Alfred made it to the hall. "What does it mean that the baby's going to be ready soon?" Lovino asked.

"I don't know. Maybe someone was calling to put their child into the daycare service." He trailed off, no matter, staring at the ground with slow steps. "But, the ad never listed a number. Why would it, if she wasn't staying there?"

"Maybe he's actually in on it and gave you something to throw you off his trail."

"Perhaps, but why would he openly offer us information that would make him look suspicious/"

"He's an idiot."

"Then that's going to imply that there's a third accomplice that we're looking for. A suicidal woman and an idiotic man aren't really the right fits for this type of crime. Unless—"

"Unless?"

"Unless this clue is going to lead us into a trap."

Lovino furrowed his brows. "A tra—" His word were drowned out by his own throated scream. The world jumped and spazzed. He fell against the fuzziness of the jittery wall, quickly biting down on his hand. Why did this never get easier! He lost balance from his feet and fell to the floor, pinning his head against the wall behind him as he attempted to contain the cries. It wasn't easy, or even borderline possible, when his energy was also focused on the tar running through his blood, attempting to seep and protect.

By the time it was all over his hand was bleeding and people had filtered into the hall curiously. Lovino blinked away the tears.

"What'd you see?" Alfred asked quickly. "Anything that might lead us—"

"This is—this isn't for your fucking plot convenience." Lovino grunted, hissing at his hand as he wiped the blood away on his pants. He pushed himself off the ground. "Let's just get moving," he muttered, cradling his hand to his hip, ignoring the stares that followed him.

They took the elevator.

A trap. Could this be a trap? Lovino had felt that it was from step one to step whatever-the-fuck-they-were-on. Anubis had showed him this location specifically. Had given him the time by giving him the little girl. Even gave them the subject to watch. And then what? Nothing. Aside from a new serial killer, of course.

Not to mention the fact that Ludwig seemed to show up at the  _perfect_  time to pull them away from finishing their mission. They had one last Neverborn to defeat. Anger, desire, life, and ambition. Four fucked up Hogwarts houses to fit in his stone.

Without thinking about it he pulled the stone from his pocket. He felt it important to keep it close to himself. It felt good in his palm. Did it feel different? Different from the stone that Anubis had given him. It now held three Neverborns. Three souls? Would—if one was never born could they harness a soul? What was the definition of a soul in this new fucking concept of life? Gilbert had called it energy. Was that all they were? Energies? Lovino didn't know—how could a person be resurrected without their original bodies to go back to? Did consciousness go past the neurons of the brain, or did they come back totally different?

Lovino shook the thoughts from his head. The elevator dinged, and the doors groaned open. The both of them made their way through to the receptionist. Alfred went through the similar questioning, but it seemed that the woman at the desk had never heard either names or of a daycare service being run from the apartments. She also didn't recognize the picture.

"Where are we going next?" Lovino asked as they shuffled into the police cruiser. Alfred handed him a napkin to band-aid his bleeding.

"We're going to revisit the houses of each victim. See if any of the neighbors or relations recognize this woman."

Lovino sighed. "Sounds tedious."

Alfred fixed him with a dark look before looking away as he started the car. "You're just being introduced to all of this. Imagine being one of the people waiting the justice of the murder their loved ones, or the people who have already been pulled into questioning five or six times because all we had to go off of was a guy in a square and a couple of letters. You know what, no. Just consider shutting the hell up, because your whining is the most tedious thing about this whole situation, dickweed. And don't get blood on my fucking coat."

There were a lot of things that Lovino could say, he was sure of it, but none of them came to mind. Maybe it was because he was tired, maybe it was because there was a new acid in his chest that made him feel small like a scorned child, or perhaps it was the fact that his mind swirled and sighed on its on track of confusing, answerless questions. Whatever it was kept his lips lazily shut and his eyes glued to the world outside.

Alfred was right. Lovino kept looking at all of this from the lens of someone that was more informed or better off; but he wasn't. He didn't know a single fucking thing about this situation. He kept wanting to find the pattern, find how everything tied together!, but it seemed that he was stuck. Stuck in something gritty and real and just…just sick. For some reason it felt less real to think of everything as a part of an end-all conspiracy. Some stupid plot to some stupid cliché book. But this wasn't a fucking book, damn it. The people on the street—they were fucking people! The time between Lovino and them was irrelevant now. They were all mortal and the only thing that set Lovino apart from them was that Lovino was uncomfortably aware that everything he did fucked up something in the future.

That he was suddenly hyper aware of the babies that would never grow into adults. Lawrence Kansas, so close to his childhood home. How much had his memory been affected. Would he have known any of them? He had screamed at Feliciano for being an idiot and mourning a person he never knew. What did that make Lovino then? A hypocrite. A bigger idiot?

Whatever it made him didn't keep the anger from flaring in his chest, not strong enough to meet his features but strong enough to settle and question not himself, not the world he was in, but question what could be. If people were informed—what could that lead to? Gilbert had told him that Free Will was not having to be afraid that you would change because some fucker decided to play with the String. The people he started at—even him—they weren't acting freely. They were ignorant. And ignorance was what allowed gods to rise and cults to kill a warehouse full of people.

Ignorance was the worst type of weakness. Lovino was an idiot, but at least he wasn't weak.

At least he wasn't weak.

* * *

"Haven't we been through enough questioning?" A woman asked, moving aside to let them in. Her eyes and her posture were tired. The small house they entered was tidy aside from the tell-tale sign of a child running around.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," Alfred said, not a single sliver of dishonesty in his tone. "I hate to bother you again. But, we have identified the subject, and now if just comes down to hunting her down."

The woman gasped, holding a hand to her mouth. She looked close to tears and her body trembled. Before Lovino could react she had thrown her arms around Alfred with open sobs. Alfred sighed, a small smile pointed at the ground as he rubbed her back. "Mrs. Matoury, I promised you that I would find the bastard that murdered your daughter and grandson. All I ask is for one final moment of your time and we'll be on our way."

"Yes—Yes of course.  _Thank you_."

"You can thank me when this is solved, and the bomber is in cuffs, ma'am."

She sat them down in a small living area. Once again, it was clean. There was a good deal of Christmas decorations that were scattered about, including a large, silver-pinned tree beautifully decorated. Beneath it prettily wrapped boxes lay underneath. Only a few, though. Everything seemed orderly except for a long, rectangular box that was either only half-wrapped or half opened. Lovino knew right away that it was for a play pin. He found himself looking at it and didn't look away until Mrs. Matoury spoke.

"It all happened so quickly." As she spoke she, too, stared at the pin. Shaking her head she offered Lovino a stiff smile. 'I'm sorry, I didn't properly introduce myself. Michelle Matoury."

Lovino nodded, about to offer his name, but Alfred cut him off.

"This is my colleague Jacob. He is also a prime witness to the attempted bombing in the mall."

"Oh, yes, I saw that on the news." She was shaking her head again. "I wish those men would have been there when—"she choked.

"I know," Alfred responded softly. "And with your help they will never be needed again. I need to know if you've ever seen this woman." He pulled out the photograph and handed it over to her.

Mrs. Matoury wiped at her eyes before taking the picture, offering Lovino a pathetic smile as if to apologize for her state. She stared at the picture for an impossible amount of time. "Yes—Yes, I think that I might have seen Heidi with her."

"Are you certain?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm not. But if I would have seen her it would have been here. Heidi was interviewing babysitters, as you know. I'm sorry I can't be of more help."

"You're doing great. Now, do you happen to recognize the names of either Julia Roberti or Elizabeth Blackwood?"

"Uhm, Julia might sound familiar."

"Perfect. If you see her give me a call."

"Yes, of course."

* * *

Lovino groaned, resting his head on the dashboard. They still had more people on the list that Alfred was looking to cover, but the six hours had passed them in traffic and formalities and just  _everyone_  saying that they  _might have_  seen her. "I thought that everyone would be better at discerning faces in a time before the internet," he muttered to himself.

"What are you whining about now?"

Lovino just groaned again, sitting. "Nothing."

"Lookie there, we're making progress!" Lovino really didn't need this fucker's arrogance right now. He needed a nap and to never hear the word 'maybe' again.

Despite there having been a bomb threat the day before, the mall was bustling with people scurrying about with the last-minute shopping lists. Lovino sighed, stepping out of the cruiser. "He didn't happen to mention a place that we would be meeting, did he?"

"No."

At least Alfred and Lovino could agree on one thing: Feliciano was a bastard.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets Lovino started his way towards the double doors. However, a call pulled his attention away.

"Lovino! Alfred! We're over here!"

Lovino looked up to see Feliciano, jumping and waving his hand.

"Alright, what have we all discovered?" Alfred asked, stooping to the scene. Ludwig and Gilbert were sitting in the vehicle with the doors open while Feliciano was shutting the trunk and moving over to open the back door.

"She approached a woman under intensive care claiming to be a nurse. She was immediately removed from the premises when she was found out," Ludwig shared.

"Were there any reports on a fraudulent nurse to the precinct?" Feliciano asked.

Alfred shook his head. "No, but I'm sure if she didn't put up a fight they wouldn't have bothered with paperwork," Alfred groaned.

"In intensive care? Could that be the woman that called in the message?"

"What message?" Feliciano asked. Alfred handed it over. "Wow, well there was actually a girl that was saying that she actually spoke to Blackwood. Said that she requested a custom-made doll to look like her daughter, or something."

"But Blackwood doesn't have a daughter."

"Well, then she must have a twin because the lady  _insisted_  that this was the chick. And there were a few people that I spoke to that said that they saw her around the premises yesterday. I couldn't ask too many people, though, because there were some investigators for the FBI that came in and started questioning the civilians. But, from the conversation I evesdropped from that it was pretty much the same story. She was seen with a cigarette outside or hanging around the food court."

Lovino blinked. "That's extremely detailed when set against our  _well she looks average, detective_."

Feliciano shrugged. "I mean, these accounts are mostly fueled by the fact that these people feel like they're playing along with their peers watching. We can't count on them too much, but the multitude of accounts makes me a bit more confident to say that she was in fact here yesterday. The question as to whether she has an accomplice is still in the air, though. Every time that she was seen she was alone."

"Did anyone see the girl with the bomb being brought in?"

"Yeah, a guy working at Sears, actually! Said he was taking a break and heading over to the foot court when he saw a woman just walk in the door and to the fountain. He said that she had looked so  _casual_  that he didn't even think twice until people were screaming about the bomb."

"So, no one walked her in?"

"No, but it made me wonder whether any results came back from the tranquilizer."

Alfred shook his head. "No, and I doubt that we're going to be getting any information from forensics at this point."

Feliciano sighed. "That's unfortunate."

"Don't worry, though. I only gave them a sample. We still have the dart itself."

"That doesn't do us much good without a lab and blood samples from the victims," Feliciano groaned.

Alfred nodded before turning back to the brothers. "Was that the only woman that was approached by Ms. Blackwood."

"The only one reported."

"And how far was she?"

Ludwig shook his head. "She wasn't pregnant."

"What?"

"She was in intensive care due to an infection caused by spinal surgery. We're thinking that this might be the reason that Ms. Blackwood came here, though. The woman in intensive isn't from around here, and the only information that she gave to the doctors was that she had recently undergone spinal surgery and that her regular records could be found from a hospital in Nebraska."

"Did she give a next of kin?"

Ludwig nodded. "Her husband. We've tried to contact him a few times but he has yet to answer his phone."

Alfred nodded. "He could very well be on his way over to us. Feli, the FBI are here?" Feliciano nodded his head. "Well, you four go over to the house and get some rest. I'll head over to the precinct and welcome our guests."

"Are you going to give them the information we found out today?" Gilbert asked.

"I would if there was anything conclusive," the detective groaned. "Once again all we have are straws."

* * *

"Can't we take a nap first?" Lovino groaned.

"No. I want to decorate as soon as possible!" Feliciano insisted, using his knee as leverage to man-handle the box of Christmas lights.

Lovino watched him, shaking his head. "What's the rush? You still have two days."

"We could get the call any minute now that her location has been located or that she's pulling another try on her failed attempted. We don't have time to sit around."

"Does it count as sitting around if it's justified by going over thirty hours without sleep?"

"Yes!  _Especially_  since you slept at the precinct! Now help me or go away."

Go away. The option of go away was so sweetly tempting. Sure, he was trekking across the bedding and the other two had gotten a head start to bed, but Lovino could go sleep in the car or something. Alas, he chose to help the kid with a set determination to sleep-deprive himself to literal death.

Together the two strung the tree. "This is why you put the lights on  _before_  the ornaments," Lovino chuckled, stepping back and looking at their awkward handiwork.

Feliciano hummed. "I dunno. Looks…quaint?"

"Yeah, whatever'll help you sleep. Speaking of—"

"I got some tinsel."

"Of course, you got some fucking—"

"Do you want blue or silver?"

He gave. "Blue."

They worked in silence. It was a bit of a surprise. Lovino almost expected the kid to tick off facts about the case or about Christmas or about anything really, but he didn't. He put all of his attention in everything that he was doing instead. Lovino stole a glance over his shoulder to watch the kid. A concentrated frown and determined stare fixing the wall and the tinsel and the staple gun. Lovino also caught the sight of something that he hadn't realized he'd missed. Around the kids neck was a black, metal cross. Lovino blinked, furrowing his brows. Was this a religious thing? Was that the reason he was acting so fucking weird?

Lovino cleared his throat before he spoke. "Nice cross," he offered lightly.

Feliciano broke his movements to look down at the necklace. "Thanks," his voice was quiet, almost a sigh, "Ludwig gave it to me."

Maybe Lovino shouldn't have said anything, because now all that flooded his head were bitch-ass comments about Jesus. Instead he settled for the clever: "Oh." And then his face continued talking because he was tired and not because he wanted to know. He just needed a fucking nap. "Are you two close?"

"Of course we are."

"Oh."

"You and Gilbert are close, aren't you?"

Gilbert had found a way to insert himself, half a lemon cake sticking out of his face. "Oh yes, in love actually," he said, wiping crumbs from his shirt. "I was thinking, Lovi, while we're here we should totally elope. I've always wanted to try and get married to a dude before it was legal, just to see what would happen. And based on our love—"

Feliciano jumped from his step stool and sent Gilbert a serious stare. "Gilbert, the cakes are for Christmas."

"Just tryna get into the spirit early, is all. So, love, will you marry me?" Gilbert asked, dramatically falling to one knee and offer the rest of his cake.

Lovino rolled his eyes. However, the invitation did intrigue him a good deal. "Yeah, sounds like fun."

Gilbert practically blossomed. "Yeah?"

"But no kiss!"

"Awesome! Feli, you can come to the honeymoon if you want."

The boy quirked an eyebrow in his direction. "Oh yeah? And which one of us ends up dead in nine inches of water, then?"

Lovino shook his head. "Whoa, first off, no honeymoon. Also, why are one of us dying?"

"It's the case of the Christian Kettlewell," Feliciano shared over Gilbert's laughter. "In 1947 a woman and her boyfriend shared a really close friend, and when they got married they invited their friend to come onto their honeymoon together. Not all the details are known, but the woman ended up drugged and drowning in nine inches of water in a nearby stream with the cabin they were staying in going up in flames. It's theorized that the two men did it because they had fallen in love and, well, you know 1947."

Did he know 1947?  _Did he?_

He thought it over for a second before answering the riddle. "Well, obviously Fell you would be the one to die."

"What! But I'm the third wheel!"

He shrugged. "You're the most feminine out of the lot of us, and it was the  _woman_  that died."

Gilbert quickly jumped in. "I don't know. If we're basing this on that notion then I think it would be you, Lovino, to meet your fate in the stream."

"What!"

"He does have the worst mood swings," Feliciano agreed with a pensive tilt of his chin.

"No way. Compared to Feliciano I am a practical lumberjack—a manly man!"

Gilbert threw his head back with a loud chortle. "Men don't call themselves menly-men! You are definitely getting murdered." He strode forward, steeling Feliciano into his arms. "So what do you say? Help me murder this dame and run away with me?"

"Oh, of course."

"Okay, no! I don't like this!" Lovino yelled, quickly breaking up the pair that were playing along with this gag way too well. "No one is getting married, no one is dying!"

"But, Lovi," Feliciano cried, beating at his chest as he was obviously attempting to keep the laughter from his voice "I love him!"

"I will lock you in a fucking tower, so help me!"

"Will there be chains?" Gilbert whispered in his ear. Lovino batted him away.

"Kinky," Feliciano continued.

Lovino gave a tormented, grunted cry. "I hate you both!"

"And there's the mood swings again. One minute we're getting hitched, the next you're telling me you hate me."

"No wonder you went gay."

"He would be gay  _with me_!"

"Keep telling yourself that, Lov."

He left the children to giggle alone together, mumbling an aggressive, unanswered "where's the ladder?" as he grabbed the boxes of outdoor lights and graceless stumbled out the door with them. He threw one final look back at the idiots, but they weren't laughing anymore. Gilbert was offering the kid a nod. Feliciano just sighed, saying something too low for Lovino to hear him.

Already in the motions of leaving, Lovino did just that.

And goodness did he regret it. "Why's it so fucking cold?" he whined, cursing how his breath fogged. It still wasn't snowing—Lovino just assumed that it was because it was too cold to snow. Or too dry, but there was a heavy overcast set above him. It was early in the afternoon, but it was dark.

Lovino put down the boxes and went searching for a ladder to get up to the roof with. He had only helped stringing up roof lights before, and that meant fucking off on the roof as a child vs actually doing anything, so when the door opened and Feliciano came out with the staple gun that he hadn't grabbed, he had to admit that he was a little relieved.

Feliciano forded his way into a small, decrepit shed in the backyard, coming out with a ladder looming over his shoulder. "Hold the ladder," he instructed, moving flawlessly to the box of lights and opening it.

Lovino just followed directions. Move the ladder here or there, hold it, don't let the kid fall to the junk and concrete below. After they were strung Feliciano attached the extension chord and tried it out.

Blues and reds and greens and whites, they all offered something of life to the squat junkyard. Feliciano stepped back to the street to see it better, Lovino joined him.

The kid sighed. "This is my first Christmas without my parents," he laughed.

"Sometimes you say things that make it sound like you live in your parents' basement, you know?" Lovino joked.

Feliciano just continued, not acknowledging Lovino's attempt at humor. "It's my first Christmas without Grandpa, too." His eyes were sad again, not even looking at the lights, rather the windows or the door or maybe nothing at all. "Ever since I've made it here I've thought about finding a way to contact him. Pretend to be a fortune teller or something and tell him not to go to that hospital, to warn him. Because if I did, maybe he'd still be alive." He laughed with a small sniff.

"Why haven't you?"

Feliciano shrugged. "I don't know."

"Hey, just think of it this way. The first Christmas without your grandpa is one where he's still alive somewhere. He's not dead here, he's just not here! And—Well when you go back to our time, then just think of it that way, too. He's alive in the past. Be happy for that."

It was meant to make the kid feel better, it really was, but he seemed to get worse. Not, cry-his-eyes-out worse, but worse in a way that Lovino didn't really understand. He was too tired. "It's our first Christmas together."

Lovino chuckled. "I don't know, last Christmas you sent me over a hundred memes. I would count that as being practically together."

"Memes to which you ignored!"

"Hey,  _I_  was trying to catch up on sleep because I had to work the next day. Mr. Got-a-week-off-for-a-one-day-holiday."

"Do you think that we'll be able to spend next Christmas together?"

The kid refused to look at him, but Lovino could only stare. What was he supposed to say to that? Why was he being racked into the conversation of missing parents and dead grandfathers? Looking away he sighed. "I don't know."

Feliciano just nodded and made his way back inside. Lovino hung his head, relishing in the cold for a long moment longer before following.

At least he could get some sleep now.

* * *

When he woke up he found Feliciano on the couch, staring at the ceiling. His head still dipped and lined with the grogginess of sleep. It was a drug and his brain refused to stop tripping. So, he turned over and let it all wash over again.

The next time he allowed his eyes to open it was because of the sounds. Feliciano was pacing. He couldn't stay awake for long. His body hurt—he needed to take another pill, but the thought of moving past just reclosing his eyes was a thought that came straight from hell to torture him. So, he turned over and let it all wash away.

The sounds of a movie, the smell of shampoo. Lovino turned. Feliciano wasn't watching the television. With a towel around his shoulders he was just staring up. Lovino grunted as he sat up, grabbing at his chest and regretting his decision to not pop a pill earlier.

"Morning," Feliciano muttered.

Lovino worked his way around until he found his pill bottle. "Morning. Get any sleep?"

"Yeah."

It was an obvious lie. Lovino swallowed the bitter capsule. The decorations around the living room were fixed and nice—even the tree seemed to have been fixed. Lovino sighed, shaking his head. "You're gonna kill yourself at this rate," he groaned.

Feliciano let off a snarky snort. "Funny."

Lovino couldn't help but glare at the kid. This wasn't the first time Lovino had been graced with his fucked up not-talking-to-you attitude. "The fuck is your problem?" he demanded. Feliciano just stood and made his way into the kitchen, grabbing a cup and filling it with water. "The silent treatment, really? Aren't we fucking mature."

"Are you done?"

"What?"

Feliciano fixed him with a tired frown. "Are you done?"

Lovino just put a hand to his head. "Done with what, Feliciano? Because right now its you that's—"

"Funny." The kid walked past him and towards the door.

"Funny! Fucking funny! Where the hell are you going?"

The door slammed. Lovino glanced up at the clock. It was two in the goddamn morning and Feliciano was throwing a hissy fit over  _what_? Scrubbing a hand down his face he drew a deep breath. The question as to whether to let the kid work it out on his own or go and try to see what was wrong was apparent and harsh. Lovino didn't want to be doing this. He didn't want to fight—especially because he wasn't even sure what the kid was so pissed over. He needed to sleep, but Lovino wasn't his mother and wasn't about to go yell at him for being problematic.

He could just go back to sleep. Let the aches and pains be taken care of by the medication. He could just ignore it all until it went away and the kid grew exhausted to the point of passing out. It's what he did with the Gabriel case. Just let Feliciano work his shit out on his own.

Maybe it was a mistake going outside just to make sure he was alright.

The kid was standing on the other side of the fence, his back to the house as he laxly was pulling on a pair of gloves. Lovino recognized them immediately as the gloves Arthur had given him. Lovino closed the door behind him, but the kid didn't move for a long while. Lovino rubbed at his arms. He should have grabbed a jacket.

"You know," Feliciano was saying absentmindedly, "I've never considered picking up smoking or drinking until I met you." Lovino frowned, furrowing a brow and ignoring the knot in his stomach. Feliciano turned to him. The only light were the Christmas decorations of the house and a stranded street light down the road. The boy's hair was darker, and so was his expression. Lovino had seen him pissed countless times, but never like this. Never like this. Lovino made his way forward, ignoring how the stare made him want to do nothing but turn away. "It's been a while since we've fought," the kid said.

Lovino sighed. "Feliciano, we're not—" The kid didn't wait for him to finish before he approached with a hooked punch. Lovino barely dodged it, falling backwards. "What the fuck!"

Feliciano threw another punch. He was quick and he was pissed and Lovino really didn't want to hit him. "Fight back!" Feliciano screamed, finally catching Lovino in the jaw.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Lovino screamed back at him, rubbing at the flash of pain in his face.

Feliciano put up his fists and threw another attack. Lovino moved out of the way, grabbing the boy's arm and flipping the boy onto the grass. Feliciano was resilient and kicked at Lovino's feet. Lovino stumbled away, but Feliciano took his retreating as an opportunity to jump to his feet and throw another attack. Lovino blocked the hit with his forearm rather than his chest, catching the next fist. He tried to throw the boy off balance, but Feliciano caught him in the stomach with his knee instead.

"You're an idiot!" Feliciano screamed, another hook to the head.

Lovino caught the boy under the ribs with his elbow. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"You are!" A high kick was poised, ready to bring a pointed heel onto Lovino's back, but Lovino moved quick, resulting with Feliciano on the ground instead of him. He let out a pathetic cry as he shot up, his head digging into Lovino's stomach and sending him backwards coughing. This time the kick found its target. Lovino grunted, catching himself and scraping up his hands. He kicked himself up and threw his own punch with staggered steps. Feliciano didn't even pay attention to the blood that started down his lips from his nose. He lunged forward, but his footwork was sloppy and Lovino quickly took advantage of it, sending him backwards to fall. Feliciano threw his fist into the ground. "When are you going to tell me? Or can I just expect you to go off and die without saying a word?" his words were harsh and cold, and he emphasized them with a glare as he made his way to his feet.

"Excuse me?" Lovino shouted back, the bitter acid that came with being accused settling in his chest and spreading over his shoulders to cause him to become frustratingly tense. This time when Feliciano attacked he was ready. That didn't keep his ear from ringing terribly when Feliciano swung and landed a powerful hit to the side of his head. Before Lovino knew it he was on the ground, the boy panting above him. He shot up a fired glare.

"Gilbert told me your plan." Feliciano sneered. "He said that you weren't going to say anything, but I trusted that you would."

"That's what all this is fucking about?" Lovino screamed up at him. "You're mad at me because I didn't—" he fell into a fit of mean laughter. "You're a fucking hypocrite! Like you're a fucking open book! You fucking stew in your god damn misery all the fucking time, bastard—Oh, but I can't? I have to tell you everything?"

Feliciano laughed as well—what a fun joke they were fucking sharing! He threw his foot back and brought it forward to kick Lovino, but Lovino caught it and dug his thumb into the boy's ankle. He expected the pain to deter the other from kicking him, but instead Feliciano twisted his foot and pulled it back, causing Lovino's grip to falter and leave him open to the kick's force when it came back. "This isn't about me. I've never decided to kill myself!"

Lovino shot up and grabbed the other's shirt, pulling his down and digging his arm under the boy's chin. "My fucking death doesn't involve you!" he screamed.

Feliciano dug his nails into Lovino's arm until he was forced to remove it, drops of blood coming to the surface. He was quick to throw a subsequent punch. Lovino responded by catching the kid in the stomach. The boy coughed, retreating back to his feet. He cradled his stomach for a long moment, staring at the ground below him with angry breaths. "How—How does the death of my best friend not involve me?" he asked quietly, before screaming it louder and louder. "Huh? Tell me Lovino? How does the death of my best friend not involve me?"

They met in another violent truffle, but they were both growing weaker, more tired. Feliciano's tears finally made their way to the stage and his bellicose yells became paroxysm cries.

"I'm not changing the fucking plan!" Lovino had screamed back at him.

"I'm not asking you to! All I wanted was for you to let me in on it!"

" _Why_? So you could fucking worry?'

"It's not your place to decide when I'm allowed to worry!"

The hits grew slower until they disappeared. Lovino fell to his knee, his side and chest and head aflame with pain. Feliciano stood back by the fence, his passion all used up. They sat in silence for a long while, Lovino frowning at the ground in front of him. Despite the pain he felt lighter somehow. His frustration had twisted and gone. He could breathe easier despite the clotting blood, and his chest  _hurt_  but only physically. Without meaning to, he started laughing.

It was funny, wasn't it? After all  _this_ , after the supernatural shit and the god shit and the serial killers and—just after all of it they still were squabbling like children. Throwing punches because neither of them could put down their pride long enough to pretend to be civilized.

"You're—You're not allowed to laugh," Feliciano chuckled from his place, sniffing and wiping at his nose.

"You really are abusive, you know that?" Lovino laughed.

It seemed to be contagious, because soon the kid was giggling himself. "Well, you're just—you're such a—Ugh, you're impossible."

"When did Gilbert tell you?"

The kid sighed. "The first night you guys got here."

"Fucker."

Feliciano offered him a hand and a small smile. "Sorry for beating you up."

Lovino took the assistance. "No you're not." He let his words trail as he took in the damage. "Damn it, Feliciano," he cursed.

"If you keep looking at me like that I'm going to punch you again," Feliciano said with a light glare. "I can fend for myself."

" _You can't tell me when I'm allowed to worry_ ," Lovino mocked with a roll of his eyes.

Feliciano just shook his head, throwing his gaze to his feet. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?"

Lovino blew out an exasperated breath. "I'm sorry, okay? But, my hand has been pushed into this. It's not really my decision. I already told you, I don't want to become a god, but if it's going to happen then why not make something out of it? Which—I mean—I don't know. I don't really have a plan at—"

"Lovino—" Lovino paused. The boy's voice was quiet. "Lovino, shut up, please." Lovino blinked down curiously at him. There was a long bout of silence between them. When Feliciano spoke again, it seemed to be words that were hard to say because they were slow and considered. "I—Lovino, I love Ludwig," Lovino knew his mouth was open before his head followed, but Feliciano shut him up with a laugh. "And I love Gilbert, and I love Alfred, and—and you know that I love you. I'm so lucky to have you all, and I know it. But," his laugh quieted, and he sighed. "But—and—and Lovino I think recently that I've fallen in love with you." Lovino wished that he knew how to speak. Everything felt dizzy and surreal and just  _impossible_. "And it's the worst time—and I don't want you to think that—I support and love your idea and it might need a little more thought but—but—I just—I just—"

Lovino couldn't say anything. Not with the way that his heart was pounding. He couldn't tell the kid to shut up, he couldn't tell him to stop cry-laughing like an idiot, he couldn't tell him anything.

So, instead he kissed him.

Feliciano seemed surprised, pulling back against the hand that cupped his chin. Honey eyes caught and stared and were both tired and confused, but all at once eyelids covered them and it was Feliciano that initiated the contact. Lovino allowed one of his hands to get lost and tangled in auburn hair while the other pulled the kid closer. The taste of blood and salt was shared, but Lovino didn't care, couldn't care, because all he wanted was more. To dance and to melt and to experience perfection.

Feliciano put a hand on his chest and forced them to part. His touch rose to Lovino's face and was just as curious as his stare. There was a small, sad smile on his lips, and his eyes still watered.

"What do you want?" Lovino asked quietly.

Feliciano shook his head. "I want to stop thinking about you."

And then they were kissing again. It was a bit messy and a bit rushed, but every time Lovino got too rough the boy would force him to slow down. Feliciano's kisses were a lot like his touches; they existed in a state of just wanting to be. To remember. Lovino wanted to remember more, but the kid was slow and beautifully satisfied with the light touches and fumbling dances.

Lovino decided that he wanted to practice until their kisses held enough grace to match the elegance of the bastard that he shared them with.

Their movements slowed until it was just them, sitting on the porch, both tired and sad and wondering how bad it would be to never catch the killer. Lovino wouldn't mind leaving her to her own devices, but he knew that Feliciano's stupid sense of justice would slap him if he offered his thoughts.

"It's cold out here," Lovino muttered, standing up. "Let's go inside."

When Lovino woke up for the forth time, it was to glare at Gilbert for eating too loud because Feliciano needed all the sleep he could get and if that albino fucker woke him up being a literal cow Lovino would have to kill him. Gilbert seemed to mock him, chewing louder, and when Lovino moved to attack him Feliciano grunted, burying himself deeper into Lovino's chest.

Lovino mouthed a silent "I'm going to kill you."

Gilbert just chomped.

* * *

"Eight hours until Christmas!" Feliciano cooed. His mood after his nap had improved significantly. Lovino was tending to the bruise on his jaw when Feliciano jumped him. "Eight hours, Lov!"

Lovino pushed him off. "Yeah, I heard you the first six times, bastard."

"I still don't understand how you two ended up so badly hurt," Ludwig was saying.

"I told you, Lud. There was a robber and we had to fight him off." Feliciano's face didn't even try to hide the fact that he was lying.

"I don't believe you."

"Best not to," Lovino sighed. His hair was still wet from his shower and he was wearing some of Alfred's clothes. The pants were secured with a belt and bunch a bit awkwardly due to the difference in statures between the two. Standing he dropped the bag of peas on the counter and replaced them with a glass of water.

"It's strange that Alfred isn't back yet," Feliciano said.

"How long do FBI briefings usually take?" Gilbert asked.

"I don't know."

"I'll call the precinct." Ludwig sighed, moving to the buried landline. "This isn't the first time Al's decided to pull an all-nighter." The lot of them listened to the one-sided conversation. "Thank you," Ludwig finally muttered, hanging up the chorded phone.

"Well?" Gilbert demanded.

"Alfred never made it to the precinct yesterday."

"What?"

"Fuck."

"Wait—"

Lovino groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Who wants to fucking tell me that Antonio isn't involved in this one?"

"Where do you think that he would have taken him?" Feliciano asked.

"Should we consider him dead?" Gilbert pitched.

"No," Feliciano said quickly. "I still remember him. He's alive."

"For how much longer?"

"Stop being a pessimist, Gilbert," Ludwig demanded.

"Gotta be a realistic one in the group, Lud."

Suddenly the phone rang to life. Ludwig hesitated before picking it up. "Hello? He's not here right now—yes, of course I'll take a message.  _What_? Where?" he motioned quickly for a pen and paper. "Yes, yes, thank you ma'am. Thank you. Yes." He hung up. "Ms. Blackwood has been spotted, that was just a call from a Mrs. Matoury."

"Where!"

* * *

Large FBI vans had beat them to the scene. Men in uniform were hustling around the premises of the hospital. Ludwig parked and the lot of them filed out of the car.

"There's too many cops," Feliciano said. "We can't investigate with all of them here."

"Mrs. Matoury called from the hospital. She said she was coming out of an appointment with her therapist when she caught sight of Blackwood. There's no way that she's still here, though."

"So, we split up again?" Gilbert asked.

"If she really has an accomplice she could be miles away by now," Lovino pointed out.

"She could have another victim," Ludwig muttered.

"Then we have no time to waste. She was seen on foot, and we'll count on that. Let the Feds have this location and we can break off!" Feliciano was insisting. He secured his badge in his pocket. "I'll take North. We meet back here."

"Feliciano, wait—" but the kid was already off.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Gilbert decided. "I'll take the East."

"West, I guess," Ludwig sighed.

Lovino was left at the car, shaking his head and left with the south. He would have to make his way around the hospital building itself, which meant dodging the FBI. He started closing his door when he noticed the gun, left recklessly on the seat.

Feliciano's gun.

The kid was already out of sight. "I really hope you fight better well rested," he muttered, slamming the door shut and starting his direction.

* * *

His aches and pains had started up again, and he glanced down at the real watch that showed him the time rather than the one that reminded him that the Beilschmidts were orphans. Groaning his fished out a pill.

No one could point him the direction of the woman, and he felt like he was getting lost more than he was making progress. They're plan really had been dumb. Running all in separate directions blindly. There were only four of them! What happened if went South-East, huh? Then by luck of diagonals she would get away! Not to mention the fact that the FBI had people on the roads in  _cars_  and would catch her much easier. They were just being busy bodies just to be busy bodies, at this point.

All of those thoughts went away when a child laughed from behind him. Lovino turned. A young brunette was smiling wide at him, her hands behind her back. Lovino blinked, making sure she wasn't just a figment of his imagination. She was still there. Fuck, what was her name? "Wy?"

"Hiiyas, mister. Have you seen my mommy?"

This didn't feel right. Lovino made his way towards her with caution. "I—Yeah, if you come with me I can take you to her." Small children appearing in weird places, Lovino really didn't have the best track record with these things. He quickly looked over her, searching for aliments and death. At least it wasn't like Gabriel, her skin still looked flushed. He really didn't need his fucking visions to start up again.

She extended one of her hands for him to take it. He hesitated, but obliged. His jaw was tight as they walked towards a main road. "Where have you been?" Lovino asked quietly, pins and needles running their course down his spine.

"Out."

"Out where? Who were you with?"

"I was with daddy."

Was the Wy case a domestic case? Surely Alfred and Feliciano would have solved it easily if it was. "Oh yeah? Where's he now?"

"He's waiting."

Kids were fucking creepy. Lovino hated them. All of them.  _I see dead people_ and  _he's waiting_  and—no, kids could just—no.

"Waiting for you?"

"No."

"Oh, okay. Well we'll get you to your mother."

"Can I see this?" The girls free hand pulled the stone from Lovino's pocket. Fucking small hands!

"Hey, give that back, that could hurt you—"

The girl broke away from him in a run. "Daddy will be happy. Thank you, mister!"

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck! It was the phrase that filled Lovino's head because there wasn't much else to think while chasing down a missing girl that had just stolen your magic rock. Fuck! What was his life?

"Fuck!" he yelled. Where the hell did she fucking go? "I fucking hate kids. All of them. They are devil spawns and deserve nothing but hell," he was muttering under his breath, checking alleyways and fire escapes. Part of his anger was to cover up his hurt ego that a literal child ran faster than him, even after all of his training, but he wouldn't admit that to anyone.

Suddenly he caught sight of her, just out of reach. He started his quick steps again.

And that's the dance they played. Lovino would get lost, and then she would appear and lead him further down her path. Lovino caught on early. He was being led into a trap. Whether this Wy character was real or not, he didn't care. His guard was up and his sword was a flick of the wrist away. He kept running.

"Lovino?"

"Ludwig—fuck, you haven't seen a little girl have you? This tall, face of the devil, little asshole hands?'

"What are you talking about? Why are you so far off course?"

"The resurrection stone was stolen!"

Ludwig took that into consideration with a sigh. "Alright, I'll help you."

And then the both of them were off, looking for a child instead of the child killer they had been attempting to hunt down.

"There!" Ludwig insisted.

"Luddy?"

"What is this bitch's game?" Lovino screamed at no-one in particular as Gilbert joined them.

"Looks like we follow her to Feliciano, then," Ludwig sighed, shaking his head.

"Dunno what you guys are talking about, but what's with the triplets?" Gilbert asked.

"Fuck." Three little girls, three glowing stones, three separate paths.

"What does she want?" Ludwig muttered.

"I don't fucking know."

"Split up then?"

Lovino hated this game. Looking down at his watch he groaned. It was late. "I guess." Why would she bring them together only to split them up again? What was the end goal!

The clouds above were getting thicker by the hour. It looked like they would have a white Christmas, after all. Lovino followed to the best of his abilities, the darkness feeling like a blanket and the cold like a cog in a machine. He, Ludwig, and Gilbert were all running into traps. Lovino could only wonder what fucking hell Feliciano was falling into.

He could only imagine until the girl that had just been in front of him was suddenly behind him. "Mommy!" Lovino turned, but she disappeared, only to reappear behind him. "Who's that with her?" Turning again Lovino squinted through the darkness. He didn't see anyone. "I hope they don't fall." With ever word the little girl's voice matured and cackled. Lovino looked up.

Two figures on a roof, one with their hands above their head and standing on the ledge.

"Feliciano—" was it a whisper, did it even come out, where was his voice, his heart?

"Better go save him, Herc," the woman behind him laughed. He didn't even turn before he was sprinting.

"Feliciano!" he screamed, hoping to catch his attention, to let him know to just hold on another minute, to beg him to take the bullet over the fifty story drop. He was smart, he was smart, but he didn't have his gun! This wasn't a fare fight! Fuck! Fuck!

A roll of thunder sounded from behind the clouds as Lovino grabbed at the fire escape and started up. He climbed and climbed and when a roll turned into a bang Lovino's trembling limbs told him that it was normal for lightning to come after thunder and that guns and weather were a lot alike and that there was no way a bullet followed the bang because it was just the weather. Just the weather. It was the weather and not—the body falling from the—it was the weather. Cats and dogs and corpses—but not of—it was just the weather-!

He slammed his shoulder into the locked entrances from the fire escape to the roof. "Feliciano-!" There was a person, leaning over the edge, not moving. Lovino staggered forward, staring through the dark, hopeful and afraid and sword ready. The person sat back on their heels and looked back. Lovino dropped the sword. "Feliciano," a breath or a whisper or silent, it didn't matter.

He joined the boy who just looked away and down. Lovino followed his line of sight. The woman had made quite the mess. Even from the distance Lovino could tell her skull was crushed and scattered. "What happened?" Lovino asked quietly.

"I—I—I didn't have—I didn't have—I—I—" the boy's voice quivered and caught. Lovino looked over to him, studying his features for the first time.

He had never seen the boy's eyes wider. They almost looked crazed as he stared at the body below, hands vise against the concrete below them. Lovino tried to place a hand on the boy's shoulder, but Feliciano pushed him away, staggering backwards and away from him.

"I didn't have my—I didn't have my—I—I—I—"

"Feliciano, snap out of it!" Lovino screamed, his fear converting to anger on the tip of his tongue.

The boy went quiet, his eyes flashing here and there. Lovino was painfully aware of the fact that he wasn't crying. "I didn't have my gun, Lovino," he said.

"What did you do, Feliciano?" Was it Lovino's fear that also made this sound like an accusation?

The boy closed his eyes. He had a stupid habit of hosting a small smile when he cried. The smile was there but the tears were dry. "I talked her off the ledge." And then the tears and the sniveling and the pity started. "I—I used her ignorance against—I told her that—I told her—I didn't have my—I—I—"

Lovino couldn't place a name to this feeling. He couldn't. because it was a feeling that he was trying so hard to forget himself. The feeling after he realized that he had killed an innocent man. It was cold. It was empty. His eyes were dry.

"Shut up!" Lovino screamed, cutting off the unintelligible words that the kid was spewing. "Shut up, Feliciano! I don't know if those fucking tears are to make me feel better or to make you feel better, or maybe they're your attempt at finding penitence. You're a manipulative fucking bastard." The clouds were dark and Lovino was on an edge, staring at the body of a woman that deserved to die, yes, but was tricked into doing it. Tricked, how was this any different than the fucking gods. How was this—

His words had lost their temper and took on the rambles of a thought process. "You do things and say things and pull people in without ever considering how you hurt people. You lie and you cheat and you talk. I don't want to hear you make fucking excuses for this, damn it. You can talk yourself out of anything." Blood, it pooled. Dark under the darkness. He turned away from the scene, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

He needed to get a hold of himself. This—it was needed. Feliciano was being held at gun point, it was self-defense. It was—It was fucked. He opened his eyes to take in the scene.

"I can't cry for her," Lovino muttered. "I can't bring myself to care enough, I guess. So—So I don't want you to speak but if you want to cry—" he shook his head as he fell to his knees beside the boy, his head hung. "I can't cry for her. I can't. So please, Feliciano, don't stop crying. Please feel bad. Please know how fucked up you fucking are. Because right now all I want to do is comfort you but you need to—you need to understand that you're a fucking—fucking—that you're a—"

"Monster?" Feliciano asked, his voice cry-laughing but a darkness to his features that showed just how forced the word was.

Lovino closed his eyes, his jaw tight and his mind three million directions at once. What was he doing? Why was he saying these things? Monster. It was a word that swirled and dipped in Lovino's mind countless times. It was something saved for the gods and for his future. It wasn't something for a boy crying after talking himself out of dying. "No. Not monster," Lovino decided. "You're fucked up but you're not a monster, Feliciano." He found himself smiling, but it was sad and when he stole Feliciano's face for a kiss it was never changing. "You're a manipulative bastard, Feliciano. Nothing more, nothing less."

Feliciano buried his face into Lovino's neck. "She couldn't have a child. She told me that she killed because she couldn't give life. It—It's why she went after pregnant woman. She—She had a miscarriage and couldn't have a kid after that." Lovino smoothed down the boy's hair with a sigh. He let him talk now, though. If the boy needed the therapy, then Lovino would give it to him. If the boy wanted to talk then Lovino would listen. "She said—she said that she—she was doing it as a sacrifice. She was trying to prove herself worthy, to prove to God that she could do it."

"She warped religion into this?" Lovino sighed.

"If she would have known better—" Feliciano cut himself off, breaking away to stare at Lovino with impossibly sincere eyes. "Lovino, if she would have known the truth then I would have never been able to—"

Lovino shut him up with another kiss. "Don't, Fell."

"I want you to succeed, Lovino. I want you to help people. I—Free Will, Lovi, it, I—" Lovino brushed aside the boy's hair. Sad eyes and rambled words that were caught in throats between sobs. "Lovino, I don't want to miss you, but I understand, and I love you and I will support you one hundred percent. Please, Lovino."

They made their way through the building and down to the street. Feliciano stared at their feet as they walked. "The police will want to question us," he was muttering.

"Then they can find us," Lovino grunted, leading the boy away from the scene. They had just turned the scene from the ambulance and curious people when a laughing voice broke into the air.

"Too bad! You were supposed to kill her! Now we're going to have to find another one!"

Lovino called his sword without a second thought. Wy stood there, his stone at her hip and a venomous smile no little girl should possess on her demeanor.

"Who the fuck are you?" Lovino demanded.

The girl twisted and popped, little girl laughs turning into cackled as limbs became too long and chin too pointed. Hair traipsed and disappeared, becoming swirled tattoos that started to cover every part of the grey skin. She smiled a pretty smile at him. "You've called me lots of things so far. Wy, Lanze,  _Anubis_ ," she fell into a fit of cackles, "though I guess it was actually him you were talking to. The old fool is so easy to  _convince_."

A dark bit of laughter brought a man from the shadows. "Come, now, Tzeentch, let the boy have his point."

"Antonio," Feliciano sneered.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Isn't it obvious yet?" Tzeentch asked. "I want you to complete the ritual." She teased the stone towards them. "You're being so slow."

Lovino clutched the handle of his sword. "Why the fuck would you want that? If I complete the ritual that means that you die!" Her laugh was harsh and obnoxious.

Antonio furrowed his brows at them, a sinister glint in his eyes. There was something different to him. The fucking psychopath that could kill a kid had some how become more twisted in their time apart. He held two things in his hands, and quickly brought them together.

Lovino screamed, falling to his knees as the String was threatened.

"Stop that!" Feliciano screamed. "You're going to kill him!"

"Oh, we're watching to see his limit," Antonio laughed. "He's lasted at least three minutes so far."

Lovino shot a glare at him. Antonio was still, Tzeentch was still, the world was picked apart. The world aside from the man slumped in the alleyway behind them. He could feel the tears mix with a gasped "Alfred!"

Antonio separated his toys. "Oh, yeah, we have him too. He's a bit unconscious or I'm sure that he'd say hi."

Lovino felt helpless. It formed into his weapon against the concrete. "What's your fucking angle?" he screamed. "Why? What are you doing all this for?"

"Because, Lovino Gaspari, we share similar goals." Tzeentch said. Her voice was swirling and sweet, stuck in his head. "I just need to participate."

Lovino lunged at her, swinging his sword with a loud cry.

All she did was laugh. Her voice in his head, her figure nowhere, Antonio, gone, the sword, slicing through flesh as if it were butter. Blood, pooling dark under the darkness as the momentum sent his blade into the wall, straight through the woman that was standing in front of him. He recognized her as his sword fell from trembling fingers. The pregnant woman that had survived. That had—she didn't even blink as the clean slice through her body left her two fall in two separate directions.

Lovino stumbled backwards. Feliciano caught him. "No—No—No—She was—No—No—"

Feliciano pulled his arm harshly. "We have to get out of here."

Lovino nodded and tightened his jaw. He needed to put it aside. To put the image of her aside. To put her aside. No, he needed to get ahold of himself. To walk. One foot, two, he needed to walk. To continue walking. No, no, no, he needed to walk.

How far had they walked before neither of them could any further and they collapsed into an alleyway? Lovino held Feliciano's sobbing figure to his chest, hating the feeling of emptiness that ruined him. That left him to stare at nothing. That left him to remember the blood as the woman's body fell apart.

It wasn't real.

It wasn't real.

She had just fallen. She wasn't able to speak. She had been pregnant. That's—she was dead. A dark pool under a dark sky.

The pitter patter of cold rain added to the weight of Lovino's shoulders. He held the warmth of his friend closer, putting out a hand with a curious, upturned palm. "How cruel, we don't even get snow," he muttered, turning his hand to stare at his watch.

Two minutes past midnight. He chuckled lowly. Empty. Wanting nothing but to cry and holding the figure that probably wanted nothing more but to stop. "Merry Christmas."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_I warned you that this would be long! Over 13.5k words, you guys. I probably should break this into two or three parts, but I'm not going to._

_ANNOUNCEMENT-THING: yo, so I created a discord server to fuck off on. It had a Fandom Café, Writing Workshop, and a Book Club. It's not just for Hetalia, is what I'm trying to get at, because that would be dull. I'm hoping that if we get enough people that we can also run regular contests! I'm also looking for a couple more managers for while I'm in bootcamp, so hit me up!_

_Find the link on my profile because I'm too lazy to list it here._

COMMENT (for itacest fans): Was it worth the wait?

COMMENT (for plot fans): So I'm sure the puzzle is slowly piecing itself together. Explain your thought process!

Oh, and for people coming back to read this during Christmas time: Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal.


	40. Quarante

"Lovino-!"

He knew the voice. Immediately he found his arms tightening around the boy, his hands clawing into the kid's clothing. Rain poured, the blur of the droplets mixing with the damp black of his hair to obscure his vision of the two figures that appeared in the mouth of the alley. Feliciano had calmed down, his tears had stopped flowing and his breathing might have even slowed, but now he stirred and Lovino hated it because he couldn't let this moment end. He couldn't walk into the bleakness of the world of unknowns and fraudulences. He couldn't, he couldn't let Feliciano be taken from him. He couldn't go back to face the consequences of his actions. He couldn't face a million more faces because as far as he knew none of them were real. Nothing was real.

"He's the cruelest thing you've created," Lovino said, monotone and factual. "Leave him for a little longer. It will be a lot more fun for you. Catch me off guard. Just—" he held Feliciano closer, "just a little longer."

"We saw the bodies," it was the hiss of the pale one, though it was gentle. A gentle hiss. A mistake of the chords, not of menace. How fun.

"Gil, Lud," Feliciano's voice broke as he spoke, moving away from Lovino's embrace. Lovino let him go. He was never his to have. He belonged to everyone and no one at once.

How cruel.

"Gil, Lud-!" His tears started back up as he stumbled into Ludwig's chest.

Lovino left his gaze downcast, his jaw tight, his arms slumping, useless without something to protect—to hold onto. An emptiness pretending to be hope.

The downpour stopped. Lovino glanced up to see Gilbert, an umbrella outstretched. "You're going to get sick."

Lovino closed his eyes with a sharp laugh. As his mouth tried to form words, he found himself just laughing more and more. He couldn't form his thoughts into words. It was all too fun. All too fun! "Nice touch with the gun! Really had me going there!" he opened his eyes to stare at the albino. Frowning was fun but he couldn't. He couldn't frown because the world was too ironic. Too fake. Too fun. His head was dizzy and his chest was filled with giggles.

"What are you talking about?" Gilbert demanded.

"I really would have killed him! But, of course, you wouldn't want that, so there was no ammo in the gun! I wonder what would happen if I tried again. Would it jam? Or maybe it would shoot just to convince me!"

Gilbert's face darkened. It was sickening, why wasn't he catching the humor? Lovino was on his feet in a matter of moments, furious. Why wasn't he catching the fucking humor! He was found out. Laugh! Fucking LAUGH! He slammed the albino against the concrete, his arm pressed against the other's throat. "I don't know what your fucking goal is," Lovino sneered in the constructed face. "But I'm not playing along anymore. Find another fucking pawn."

Suddenly his arm was wretched against his back and he was on his knees, his forehead slamming into the ground.

"Ludwig don't!" Feliciano cried.

Lovino tried to laugh, but his arm was twisted further until all he could do was cry out. Pain emulated fire throughout Lovino's whole body. "Are you done?" Ludwig screamed in his ear, his grip only tightening.

Lovino clawed at the street with his free hand. "Fuck you, you mangy—mutt—" he screamed out against the stone, his chest being forced to the ground.

Feliciano was crying his pleas, but Ludwig didn't let up. "Pull yourself together," Ludwig's words were harsh and deafening, mixing with the pounding of the rain, as he slammed Lovino's face down into the stone. Lovino put all his efforts into forcing his head back up, but it only gave the dog another opportunity to slam it down again.

"If—If you think—" Lovino ground, forcing his head up again, ignoring the blood that rain greedily thinned and ran with down his face and to the pavement, "pain is—going to convince—" another introduction, forehead to rock, body trembling and mind fuzzy; he pressed on, rising, teeth slipping into a gnash, "that you're real—" his breath was ragged, "then you—" his body hurt, his arm was pinned, he was loosing blood and strength, "got another fucking thing coming!" He put all of his energy into throwing the blocked weight of the tall blond off of his back. Quickly turning around, ignoring how his consciousness dipped away into blackness suddenly, he threw a punch in the direction that he had seen the dog go. His fist made cracking contact.

Another body was pinning him down, coming with its own set of hits. Lovino couldn't move either of his arms and they were pinned by two knees, and therefore couldn't protect himself from the raining punches. The punches stopped. He wanted to just roll over and die. Two hands grasped his shirt collar, pulling him up before slamming him down again. "What the  _fuck_  did I tell you?" Gilbert was screaming.

Lovino just laughed, turning his head to the side to spit out the mouthful of blood he had collected. "Which context are we—are we talking about?" He couldn't open his eyes. Even talking hurt too much, and every word was burdened by the groans of his body's interjection. He forced his powers down, refusing the swirling aid of his armor or his shield.

"Do you want me to fucking kill you!" Gilbert screamed, grip tight against Lovino's shirt, knuckles digging into his throat.

"I already asked you to," Lovino coughed back.

"This angsty shit has got to end," Gilbert sneered lowly at him. "I have not ruined my fucking life following you just for you to give up now. Fuck you."

"What's your end goal? Why—Why me, damn it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why—Can't you just leave me alone?" The pain was too much. His humor was fading. His mind was fading. Blood—he didn't want to taste blood anymore. Fire gone so quick, he was pathetic. "Just leave me alone. Find—someone—el—" His body was trembling too much. Tears fell down his face with no fervor, his words fell out of context as his mind slowly cut off. Everything was just black. Awake, but black. Even images his head tried to create blurred.

"Don't let him fall asleep."

"Damn it, Lovino," a soft hiss, no menace, a light shake, no words to respond. "We need to get him to the Renegade."

"He needs a doctor!"

"Feli, calm down."

"Why—Why—He was just—"

"Feliciano, please."

Lovino coughed as he was peeled off the ground. His arm was pinned behind someone's neck. He hung his head, his chin in his chest. "Fu—Fuck—"

"Keep with us," Gilbert was saying in his ear. The familiar sensation of travel sent Lovino stumbling downward, but someone caught him before he could hit the ground. Everything went from the chilling cold of December rain to smoldering hot.

"There they are!" Someone was screaming.

"Damn it!"

"Gilbert, let's  _go_!"

"Ludwig, Gilbert, wait—" The Brit?

But then everything quieted and there was a great sigh. "How long do you think we have until they find us?" Ludwig asked.

"It doesn't matter right now. Lovino, pick up your feet." He couldn't. It was all he could do just to not dip into unconsciousness.

"Give him here," Ludwig grunted, shrugging him onto his back. Lovino rested his head on his arm as they walked. With every step everything exploded in a whole new flavor of agony. When he was finally being put down he could have cried with relief.

"Get me a light." Lovino's eye was forced open. He flinched backwards, but it didn't keep the albino from attacking the other one as well. He moved away, but the dizziness of the sudden attack didn't subside and Lovino twisted over the side of the bed, emptying the contents of his stomach on the floor. It hurt, but the flow didn't stop until he was dry heaving and the dizziness had traveled to his core. "Alright, Lovino," Gilbert was saying, "yell at me later." And then there was a needle traveling through his skin.

All Lovino could get out before everything was washed away was an obscured: "Fuck you."

* * *

Lovino could only open one eye when he woke up. He grimaced. Just moving killed him.

"Welcome back," Gilbert laughed.

"You look like shit," Lovino muttered with a light, painful chuckle. The pale of the blond's skin had developed a sickly bruise along the bridge of his nose. "I don't remember punching you." He grunted as he moved to sit, Gilbert helped him with another laugh.

"You didn't. Feli did. That kid can be aggressive."

"That might be an understatement," Lovino agreed. "Where is he?"

"Ludwig took him somewhere to calm down. " The albino sighed. "He told us what happened. I guess I owe you an apology." Lovino frowned. The images of Tzeentch, Antonio, the woman—it all blurred together in his head. "But, Lovino, I told you before that trust is the most important thing in this operation. And I meant it."

Lovino shook his head. "But—"

"I can't prove that I'm real." There was a long lapse of silence after that. Lovino let it sink in. Gilbert continued: "I can't prove that I'm real, and I'm not going to try. You can choose to trust me and the others or you can choose to doubt everything in existence until your dying breath. It's really not my place to decide. But I ask you this: is a life of doubt even worth living? Because, Lovino, if you choose paranoia over help then not only are you going to isolate yourself physically, you're also going to isolate yourself mentally. You'll draw yourself thin until you snap. Is that better than humoring yourself into at least thinking that everything is okay?"

"You're asking me to choose between insanity and ignorance."

Gilbert shrugged. " _I think, therefore I am_. What goes beyond that is up to you." He put down a bottle of pills before walking out. Lovino laid back down, his head pounding like no other. Blinking he stare upwards with his one good eye, a frown permanent on his demeanor.

Ignorance was weakness, but was he strong enough to face the consequences of the other option? It must be the question that religion people were forced to face. It made sense why the perpetual idea of  _faith_  was painted as a strength rather than a weakness because if he could convince himself that he was doing the better thing just by believing in something he had no control over, no proof to define, then the burden of the choice wouldn't be his to bear. It'd be someone else's.

Could he trust that his friends weren't just constructions to get him to  _participate_  in this Neverborn's plan. Could he trust that if he turned on one of them and killed them that it would be them dying, not an innocent woman? The conflicts that he'd faced up until now, the anger and the happiness, could he trust any of it?

Was it this emptiness that Gilbert deemed as isolation? The dry eyes and the swirling acidic taste that rose to his throat? Was this feeling really what Lovino would deem as strength? As the better option?

Maybe, just for now, Lovino would allow himself to be weak.

* * *

Maybe, just for now, Lovino would allow himself to be happy with the fingers that were gently intertwined with his.

"You're awake," Feliciano pointed out quietly, a small smile on his lips.

"How long was I out?"

Feliciano shook his head. "I don't know. Time—"

"Right," Lovino chuckled, but his words turned into a groan.

"You feeling any better?"

"No."

"Well then you should get some more rest. Gil said that he has to do an evaluation to make sure you're not brain-damaged, but if you go back to sleep now I won't tell him that you woke up."

Lovino offered him a small smile. "Thanks."

* * *

"Where the hell did you get your medical license?" Lovino groaned, following Gilbert's finger as it traipsed across his face.

"We got taught the basics before being sent out to the field," Gilbert explained. "And when the Renegade was up and running I learned a few new tricks to add onto it. Anyway, people are no different than machines. Diagnose and fix. Nothing to it."

Lovino rolled his eyes, ignoring the flash of pain that came from the newly-opened one. "Great, next you're going to be sticking wires in me."

"Is that your consent?"

"Shut up."

Gilbert laughed, stepping away. He stopped momentarily to look down at the bottle of pain pills. "You haven't taken any?"

"No. And from here on out I'd appreciate it if you don't give me any medication at all."

Gilbert flashed him a dubious look. "You're going to be in pain."

Lovino chuckled. "No shit."

Gilbert just shrugged. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. Now—" he grabbed a clipboard. Lovino took a moment to appreciate that the room they were in had been cleared of bodies. Sitting down he cleared his throat. "Tell me, how are you feeling,  _emotionally_?"

"I might accept you as my doctor, but I refuse to let you be a therapist too!"

Gilbert just laughed. "I thought you might say that. Get some rest."

Lovino watched him go, grumbling a few curses after him. In the end sleep won out. It beat the constant migraine.

* * *

"I can walk on my own, damn it." Lovino shot Ludwig a glare. The taller blond just rolled his eyes.

"I'm not helping you up again."

"I  _tripped_."

"Yeah."

"Lovi, you're up!" Feliciano yelled, coming towards the two. The weather was nice, a bit windy, but it beat the stiff cot of the hospital. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit better," Lovino lied. "What are you doing?" The kid's arms were full of what Lovino deemed to be junk.

"I'm collecting a few things for Gilbert."

Lovino sighed. "Is he making more weapons."

"Uh, I don't know."

Lovino laughed lightly. "Let me guess, he told you but you didn't understand what he was saying?"

Feliciano smiled wide at him. "Glad to see your memory is still intact! Anyway, I should go up, it took me a while to find this baby," he motioned to…a piece of junk, really Lovino wasn't sure what he was looking at, "and I don't want him to get mad. See you around," and then this kid was kissing his cheek and running off. Lovino watched him with a pensive frown.

"How long are you wanting to be out here?"

"I don't need a fucking bodyguard!"

* * *

Gilbert was looking him over. Lovino could see from both eyes fully now, and the pain in his skull, for the most time, was mild. "Lift up your arm." Lovino followed direction. It was normal at this point. "Well, at least the bruise in your rib seems to have healed." He pressed down and Lovino hissed. "For the most part, anyway." He moved to Lovino's chest and studied the red scar. "Tell me if you feel this." He pressed down in the center of the star.

"A little."

"What does it feel like?"

"I don't know. Tingly, I guess."

Gilbert sighed with a nod. "Yeah, that pretty much covers it. Nerve damage."

"Yay." He recoiled when Gilbert grabbed his head, but with a grimace let the albino continue. Gilbert lifted his bangs to check over the stitches just below his hairline.

"Looking good," he muttered. "Should be able to take these out soon."

"How much longer am I going to be stuck in bed?" Lovino groaned when Gilbert stepped back, laying back on the cot again.

"Due to the severity of your concussion, it's going to be a while longer. You can't exactly over exert yourself right now. You're lucky you didn't fall into a coma or come out with amnesia."

"It's ironic that my worst wounds have come from my  _team_."

Gilbert laughed. "Your  _team_  isn't going to take your shit. The sooner you figure that out, the sooner we'll be able to move on."

"Shouldn't we at least be discussing what to do from here? The fourth Neverborn has the stone."

"We'll discuss it when you're well enough. You can't over exert yourself mentally, either. Just rest. And stop whining about it. If you would just let me—"

"No, Gilbert."

"Well then stop bitching about it."

Lovino sighed, defeated.

* * *

The good thing about headaches, Lovino decided, was that the searing pain kept away nightmares. It kept away dreams, too, but he would easily give that up in the trade-off. The bad thing about it, however, was that sometimes the pain floored him. He could cry when he was in pain, but somehow the severity of the migraines chased even that comfort away and he would be rendered to a mumbling mess with a rag over his eyes. Because of this the windows in his room had been covered, leaving everything dark all the time. It was almost depressing when the pain wasn't killing him, but it was for the best. It also encouraged him to get up and walk around more often.

Of course, the fact that if any of the others caught him up he would be forced back into the room, he was also encouraged to avoid them.

He waited at the door, listening for any footsteps or voices. Gilbert was usually on the other side of the building when he wasn't playing doctor, and Ludwig and Feliciano seemed to just fuck off as they waited for something to happen. Lovino didn't doubt the fact that they were also discussing plans of what to do without him, but he decided to be bitter about that later.

Finding no one in his way, Lovino slowly made his way out of the room and down the familiar path towards the door. It was dark when he made it outside. Taking a deep breath he took a long moment to appreciate the solace and quiet. Sure, it was quiet in his room, but it was obstructively quiet that made him feel like he was going insane.  _This_  quiet came with wind and opportunity to go somewhere, even if that somewhere had been ravished by death or questionable practices.

Lovino didn't make it far before he had to rest against a wall. Sliding to the dirt he held his chest and closed his eyes, leaning his head back gently to rest.

He felt nothing but useless. He couldn't do anything without being stuck here within minutes. Closing his eyes he just focused on the winds.

* * *

"Come on, Lovino!" Feliciano was gushing, looking both ways down the hall and motioning him to follow.

"If Gilbert catches me out of bed again I think that he might literally knock me out to keep me there." Lovino warned, following him.

"We'll deal with that problem when it comes," Feliciano said as they broke outside. Lovino's stitches had all been removed and it had been a hot minute since his headaches had caused him to vomit. Feliciano took that as a sign that he was ready for  _adventures_. Feliciano, of course, had made this an executive decision and failed the que any one else in on his plan. Well, except Lovino, who, for the fourth time now, was being dragged out of bed and onto the streets. He didn't really mind.

"You know, maybe if you visited me more in the ward we wouldn't have to sneak out so often."

Feliciano pouted at him. "I can't. Lud and Gil keep yelling at me to leave you be and let you rest."

Lovino chuckled, "so your solution is to drag me around town?"

"Sounds about right."

"Where are we going this time?" Lovino 'gave.' Of course, the way that Feliciano was smiling at him could make him give to anything. The kid really was a fucker with too much fucking power.

He quickly chased away his doubts. They hurt more than the headaches, sometimes, and were really fucking hard to drown out. But he would continue trying until his natural state was just to believe in the honesty behind honey eyes and brilliant smiles. Until his natural state allowed his heart to tremble with happiness rather than fear. Until the intertwining of fingers and pressing of palms didn't make him want to recoil and attack.

Feliciano was good with people. Always was. Maybe that's why they hadn't kissed since they had come back from the String. Hand holding and careful words.

Lovino didn't know what killed him more: the idea that this could all be a blanket over his eyes to trick him into doing something he didn't want to or the reality that his ideas had put a wall between him and his best friend. Because either way it seemed that he had lost.

"Lovi," Feliciano broke him from his thoughts. He hummed back his response. "You feeling alright? Do you need to take a break?"

_If you choose paranoia over help then not only are you going to isolate yourself physically, you're also going to isolate yourself mentally_

Lovino offered him a tick of a smile. "No, I'm fine. So where was it that we were going?"

"They have  _bowling alleys_  here."

Lovino blinked with a laugh. "You sound like you just discovered the cure to cancer."

"Shush."

"I don't think that I'm allowed to do anything sporty."

Feliciano chuckled. "Give me one example in history of someone over exerting themselves during bowling and I'll take you back."

"Here's to making history!"

Feliciano shot him a look that said more than  _shush_. "I found it earlier. I mean, we're going to have to set up the pins manually because Gilbert needed the generator, but I think we can still manage."

"Needed—what the fuck is he building that requires a building generator!"

"Try that needs  _three_  generators. I don't know, but I'm glad he's on our side and not theirs," Feliciano laughed lightly, but a yawn cut into his expression. He put a hand up to stifle the sound.

Lovino frowned. He had noticed the bags under the kid's eyes. They were apparent, never weren't. He sighed. "How have you been sleeping?"

"Better. Gilbert gave me something to help with the nightmares. I—Well, it works sometimes for sure!" Lovino squeezed his hand, not sure what to say, how to comfort him. "Time's helping, too, no matter what Ludwig says about irrelevancies. It's—It'll get better." His words trailed into silence and they just walked. Lovino wasn't sure how together they were as they did. Their minds seemed to trail into two very different directions. Feliciano's a trail of remorse, Lovino's one of skepticism.

Feliciano muttered something when they had made it. A large, warped sign half-hung off its bolts, pinning the door open. Lovino started his way forward, but he had to stop when Feliciano's hand offered resilience, the kid having stopped in his place. Lovino looked back at him. He was frowning down at his feet.

"Lovino?" His voice was quiet. So quiet Lovino almost felt that he hadn't heard it. "Lovino, I—I'm sad and here's why."

A pause. Impossibly long.

Lovino faked a small laugh. "You know, you're supposed to give a reason wh—"

"But," the kid continued, cutting him off, "but, Lovino, I'm happy and—and it's because I know that happiness comes after sadness." He sniffed and Lovino realized that he was crying. "And the sadder one gets, the happier their allowed to be, Lovino. And so—and so I'm happy, Lovino. I'm happy." Lovino was gentle when he wrapped his arms around trembling shoulders. "Lovino—Lovino I'm scared," the kid cried into his chest, his arms not moving from his sides as he shook with sobs. "I'm scared of me, Lovino. I'm scared because I don't know—because I don't—because I can't—Lovino I don't know how to stop."

"Stop what?" Lovino asked into his hair.

"To stop being manipulative."

And now there was a third pain to join his heart. He tightened his arms around the boy. "Feliciano, I—don't listen to me. What I said back there I shouldn't have. Feliciano plea—"

"No, Lovino. Don't go back on your honesty, please. Please, Lovino, I—I need you to be honest. Please."

Honesty and trust. Why was it that Lovino was being torn down to a child's essentials? Next Ludwig was going to yell at him that he needed to share.

Lovino grabbed the kid's chin, making him look up. Feliciano blinked through his tears. "Then listen to me, Feliciano. You're ambitious. You have goals, okay? So, of course you're going to be a little manipulative. It's how people get what they want. There's reason behind everything. It—" he cut off for a moment, feeling stupid and like he was making everything worse. "It's not a bad trait to have, idiot. You're smart and it's what has kept you alive."

Feliciano shook his head. "But—But it feels like everything I do is to accomplish something, Lovino. I—Alfred always said—" the kid laughed and ugly laugh, and Lovino had to chuckle as the kid wiped away snot, "that I had to remember that I'm not the center of the universe and to get over myself. I've been thinking about that a lot and—and I realized—"

"Well of course he said that," Lovino said quickly, cutting him off with a chuckle. "He's the one who taught you how to be such a little bastard!" He put a hand on Feliciano's shoulder. "He was just covering his ass to make sure that you didn't become a villain with all that power." Feliciano opened his mouth to respond, but Lovino put his hand over the kid's mouth with a click of his tongue. "And you haven't become the villain, Feliciano. You want my honesty? I think that you're naively good. Stupidly good! You like people too much,  _way_ too much, and how many times have you gone and gotten yourself kidnapped in the name of justice?" He removed his hand to lightly knock the kid in the head. "Two too many times, Feli. You're an idiot, but you're smart enough to get away with it. So, sure, you're a little manipulative, but it's because when you put your mind to something you're stupid enough to put your heart in it." He laughed, shaking his head with a light sigh. "And let me tell you, it's going to get you killed one day. But I'd rather see you die fighting then give it up, Fell. Oh, what the fuck am I saying, if you go and get yourself killed I'm going to have to resurrect you myself so that I can kill you. So you better not be getting any fucking ideas!"

Feliciano was laughing and wiping at his eyes. With a sniff he sobered. "Thank you, Lovino."

"Yeah, yeah—"

"But, can I trust you to tell me when I've gone off track?"

Lovino blinked. "What?"

Feliciano refused to look at him. "I can't be responsible for another death, Lovino. Two too many." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I can't take it. I can't." He straightened and opened his eyes. Lovino could only stare, his breath taken and his mind stunned by the determination that Feliciano shot his way. "Lovino, I want to save people. When my actions deter from this path, can I trust you to tell me?"

"I—I—" Lovino tightened his jaw, gnashing his teeth into a disbelieving smile. "You really are an idiot." He nodded quickly. "Fine,  _yes_."

Feliciano smiled at him. "We should have a code word."

"Oh, so we can figure out a code word for this while I'm still waiting for a code word for when you decide to go and start speaking in ciphers."

Feliciano giggled. "How about cricket?"

"Cricket?"

"Yeah, like from Pinocchio. Jiminy Cricket acts as Pinocchio's conscious, and that's what you'll be doing."

"Do you run on Disney movies or something?"

"Shh, don't reveal my secret," he said in a hushed whisper.

Lovino rolled his eyes, turning towards the bowling alley.  _Cricket_. Would Lovino had said it if he was on the roof, if he had heard what the kid had said, if he would have been there to see the stakes? Would he have chosen to find the 'better' way, risking the kid's life?

He realized then that it didn't matter what he would have done. Because it was over. Feliciano was right, time was being put in between them and then. If it were to happen again—if it were to happen again then Lovino just promised away his opinion in the matter. Feliciano wanted to save. If there was a gun to his head, it was Lovino's job to pull the trigger.

Lovino accepted his role as he started towards the bowling alley. Feliciano really was an idiot.

"Oh, and Lovino," Feliciano called. Lovino turned back, but he didn't get a chance to speak before the boy was crashing into him, arms wrapping around his neck and lips eagerly meeting his. Lovino gently stabled his balance by grabbing the boy's hips, allowing himself to melt into the sensation. Feliciano broke away, sniffing back new tears. "Thank you."

"Shut up," Lovino muttered, closing the gap between them again.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_16 days, guys. Not even that. And we spent a whole chapter doing NOTHING (I mean, it was needed 300000 percent because of the end of last chapter, but, still, we don't have tiiiiime for this)._

COMMENT! Who do you want to see kick the crap out of Lovino next? Because, honestly that is all this fic is. We should rename it to: Lovino gets beat up.


	41. Quarante et Un

Lovino stretched his arm back, unable to keep the smile from his face.

"Looking good," Gilbert hissed from his place. Ludwig nodded his own approval, shaking debris from his clothes as he stood to rejoin the fight.

Lovino fell into position. "Now stop going easy on me," he demanded, but there was no venom in his tone. After what felt like an eternity in bed, only to be followed up by three million embarrassing defeats that would re-render him in bed, Lovino could only find a calm satisfaction in how his abilities were returning and growing.

"We should take a break for now," Ludwig said. "You've done well."

Lovino sighed but bowed his head in agreeance. "Alright, fine."

"Actually, I think it's about time that we start planning," Gilbert decided, his hands in his pockets as he made his way towards the entrance of the Bedlam Institute.

"Shouldn't we wait for Feliciano to return?" Lovino asked, following after him.

Gilbert shook his head. "No, he's going to be a while."

Lovino fixed the albino's back with a scrutinous stare. The doubt flared. "Where is he?"

The red stare, forever mischievous, only laughed at him. Lovino glared back. Why would Tzeentch wait for him to grow stronger? If she wanted him to succeed then why wouldn't she just absorb herself and be over it. Was there more to it?

_Too bad! You were supposed to kill her! Now we're going to have to find another one!_

The words were poison in his head, swirling, intoxicating. The warehouse had been filled with sacrifices. Was that what Tzeentch was waiting for him? For him to rack up the murder count? Did power truly come from sacrifice? Must it be human? His stomach clenched, and his glare hardened.

Gilbert's laugh reached his lips. Ludwig sighed. "Gilbert, you need to stop."

"It's just so much fun."

"What is?" Lovino sneered.

"How unstable you are. Truly." Thin lips drawn in an amused smirk. "I'm surprised you didn't pull out your sword."

"Gilbert!" Ludwig yelled.

Gilbert's amusement fell from his face with a sigh. "It's just so dull around here, Lud. I never thought I'd miss the Confraternity." Lovino blinked. He needed to relax. "Anyway, we should start without Feli, I doubt anything will come up that he hasn't already been informed on."

"Where is he?"

"Fun fact, we're being hunted."

Lovino blinked. "Okay?"

"And once in a while soldiers get lucky."

"Our location has been discovered! Why—Why hasn't anyone told me?"

"We can't exactly move you away from the hospital, and my work isn't complete yet, so, there was no need to concern you. It would have just caused complications in your healing. Anyway, Feliciano insisted on not telling you."

"Why?"

"I don't know, ask him when he gets back."

"Back from where?"

"We set up an alarm system around town. There was a trigger." Ludwig sighed.

"And you sent him off on his own!"

Gilbert hummed. "You know, I definitely see why he didn't tell you."

"That's irresponsible. Ludwig, why didn't you go with him? We've kept to a pairing system up to now. It's safer! Why would you—"

"Lovino, he'll be alright. Trust me."

Gilbert snickered. "This isn't his first go around. Anyway, how else is he supposed to train? My inventions take a minute to get used to."

Lovino's jaw tightened. "How long has he been—"

"It's helping him," Ludwig decided, cutting off the brunet's question. "I'm sure you understand his mindset better than we do."

"I don't give a damn about his mindset! What—He said that he wasn't go to kill anyone!"

"And he hasn't. Screwed up a few of their memories, sure, but none of them are dead."

Lovino set him with another glare. "Are you telling me that we're taking hostages now?"

"Not exactly. We don't exactly have the man-power to watch a prison."

"They've all been sent back to the Land Without Time," Ludwig said, dismissing Lovino's questions with his hand. "Feliciano's job is only to disarm them and wipe their memories."

"Wipe their—"

"It's one of Dad's inventions, I can't take credit for it," Gilbert said with a small smile and light chuckle. "Old man's still up showing me."

Lovino shook his head. "You guys can—aren't there complications to something like that? Aren't there—"

"You really can't accept that anything's possible, can you?"

"Because anything isn't possible! If you're wiping memories then there's a great deal that could go wrong! A concussion could have left me brain damaged. What could this technology do? And if it was created by your father then there's no way that it has been tested well enough to be safe."

Gilbert furrowed his brow at him. "I never thought that you would be the one to be complaining about safety."

Lovino balled his fist at his side. Why was he getting so worked up? Was he just looking for reasons to fight?

"It's safe," Gilbert finally decided with a sigh. "Gramps wasn't the only one who would frequent the Institute. Now, can we move on?"

* * *

The three of them stood in a room that Lovino had yet to see. It was obvious  _why_ he hadn't seen it, yet. His frustration bloomed. "So, you guys have been, what, gathering fucking notes?" Littered around them were hand-written documents and maps mixed with others that were torn out of books or recovered from Feliciano had told him was the Renegade's Library. Lovino had always wondered why Gilbert sent the kid there so often, but he was starting to understand.

"As well as your plan of running around  _blind_  works, I think it might be best to change our strategy from here on out," Gilbert said.

"Tzeentch is the Neverborn of ambition," Ludwig continued. 'As I've warned you before, she's the most dangerous—"

"Wait, you did tell me about—didn't you say that it was a  _he_?"

Ludwig flushed. "Well, we can't be expected to know everything!"

Lovino sent him a quizzical look. That was how to get the blond worked up, then? Point out inaccuracies in his knowledge?

"As far as we know," Gilbert continued with a chuckle at his brother's expense, "Neverborns don't exactly have genders. They're not exactly able to reproduce beyond the creations of daemons."

"You said you got all your information on Neverborns from Arthur, didn't you? Where the hell did he learn about them?"

Gilbert shrugged. "I already told you that I don't know."

"Alright, then what do we know?"

" _As I was saying_ ," Ludwig grumbled, "Tzeentch is the most dangerous of all four Neverborns.  _She_  had attempted to get the other three Neverborns to work together before their banishment. As I have already told you, the Neverborns differences and set mind-sets had kept them from doing so. Tzeentch is not powerful physically, but she is smart. It seems that she might have used you to do what she could."

Lovino frowned, tracing his finger over a foreign map. "Anubis told me that Chaos had planned to come together again. Do you guys think that the Neverborns…that they remember being a part of Chaos?"

"It could be possible," Ludwig agreed. "Which could explain why Tzeentch isn't afraid of being absorbed."

Lovino shook his head. Could he trust that? Tzeentch had said that she was using Anubis. Could Lovino trust anything that Anubis told him?

"The question is what the Warp knew that no one else knew," Gilbert said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that never in history has there been a case of a not-god becoming a god. I couldn't find anything wrong with the stone, and we didn't have another resurrection stone to test it against, but I do have my notes. I've been running them against the accounts that we found in the library and, well, there is something very strange with it. I told you before that there were three resurrection stones that existed. However, there should only be one left intact. The other two were destroyed."

"Destroyed? What could destroy a resurrection stone?"

"And that's where the strange thing with our stone lies. They're not indestructible. If that was a normal resurrection stone it would have broken long before any of my experiments ended, and the energy, the life force of a Neverborn—well I imagine that would be enough to break it as well. Resurrection stones are used to shelter two energies. The energy of the one being resurrected and a sacrifice."

"And a sac—" Lovino cut himself off, allowing Gilbert to continue.

"They were created as a joke, at least, that's what the sources said," Gilbert handed over a group of papers. They were hand written and immediately Lovino knew who had written them.

"This is in Feliciano's writing."

"He copied what he could from what we found. The massacre didn't only wipe out the people, but also the knowledge that had acquired."

So, not only was Feliciano playing boarder patrol, he was playing copy-writer too. And the sheerity of notes that were scattered about—Lovino had to put the notes down before his tightening grip ruined them. The kid wasn't sleeping, was he? Idiot.

"So, they were just jokes?" Lovino decided.

"Well, they were entertainment. Two energies, one body, one winner. It was essentially a fight for a second life. The stronger of the two energies would win out and, by absorbing the second energy, would be able to return to the living. However—" Gilbert was growing visibly distressed and a small, ironic smirk was etched into his features. "However, there was a problem. Humanity is afraid of resurrections for good reason. Zombies and Frankenstein's monster—they're all in good taste with reality. The gods' plan is good in theory, but sentient beings are made up of more than just energy. They're made up of experiences and patterns between neurons. If the wrong energy was put into a body that wasn't theirs, the body could potentially reject it and make everything futile. And, if the right energy won and was able to return to their body, then the new memories could over-ride old ones and change everything about the person they once were." The albino chuckled. "Not to mention the fun fact that the energies could very well destroy each other within the stone. Or that they both could win and fight out the rest of their new life a schizophrenic mess."

"So, it's not an exact science," Lovino muttered.

"Far from. It's a game that was used to kill two birds with a single stone—" he sniggered—"boredom and the nuisance of humans crying about wanting their loved ones back."

"How could this stone handle four Neverborns if it was created to only hold two human energies?"

"That's the thing, it shouldn't be. Actually, the thought of a resurrection stone being used to turn even a part-god into a god was surprising to me. Humans live for maybe a century tops before their energy runs out, and that's counting on them not running into anything that's going to drain them quicker than that. Gods, however, live for millennials, and good luck finding something to drain that. For a physical object to be able to hold that kind of power is ridiculous."

"What he's saying," Ludwig cut in, seeing as Gilbert's anger had morphed into something of energenic awe, "is that this may look like a resurrection stone, but it's not one. It's not a technology or a godly creation that has ever been seen before. Or, at least recorded."

"Do you think that Chaos might have created it herself?"

"I think that if it's true that the Warp had Anubis under her thumb, then we're going to be in for a lot of surprises." Lovino groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. Gilbert's tone darkened as he continued. "But I can tell you this, those four Neverborns may have been an original part of the Warp, but they're not enough to create a god. Even you—you're essentially a human with a cool ability. That's all. If Tzeentch took the stone from you, it may be because she didn't believe that you could go through with the plans."

Lovino nodded, his gut twisting. "Human sacrifice."

"Two energies are needed to bring one back to life, I couldn't even start to guess how many energies are needed to create a god."

Lovino's head screamed through the silence. Two energies, one body, one winner. The stone was created to merge energies and allow only one winner. He closed his eyes. His teeth were going to break at this point. "Then what you're telling me is that I'm either going to have to die and be absorbed by the stone myself," the red stare was steady, potent, "or that me becoming a god isn't the end goal."

Gilbert's laughter was torturous. "You do catch on quickly."

Ludwig shot him a look and returned to Lovino with a sigh. "According to what we know, no one has ever become a god that wasn't originally crafted to be one. You're anatomically a human being. That kind of energy would kill you."

"But if I were to be absorbed and just added to the energy field to resurrect a god—"

Ludwig nodded. "It's likely that you've been schemed into helping resurrect the original Warp."

A trash bin crashed into the wall, Lovino screaming after it, the indent his foot having made twisting and turning out of sight. "Damn it!" he screamed. "Damn it! Why me? Why the fuck did I have to be the one to do it?"

"Wrong place, wrong time it seems."

"And if I'm nothing but a fucking pawn to get the other three together for that fucker, then why the hell did they take a hostage? My fucking job is done! Fuck!"

"We don't know," Ludwig said quickly. "This is all just speculation."

Lovino slammed his fists into the table. His hands shook. No. No. No no no no no no! This—What was going to happen from here? Did he just fucking hand the fourth Neverborn a key to mass murder! He was supposed to be good, to save, to fucking help. What was going to—

He paused.

Fuck.

"What does the fucking death tab do?" His words flowed awkwardly, his tongue moving through words that muddled in his head.

"The death tab?"

"Anubis, he told me that he has a list on every human. The number of lives that they have birthed, and the number of lives that they have killed. Does that mean anything?"

"It's thought that people when they are killed prematurely tend to latch onto the energy that killed them. It's the novelty behind ghosts," Ludwig explained.

"Would this connection do anything? Would it give the killer any sort of power or cause the latching entity to change at all?"

"This is all theory work, Lovino, what are you getting at?" Gilbert demanded.

"I—Tzeentch said something when I first saw her. She said that  _I_ was supposed to kill the woman on the roof. I think—I think that she might have set it up to have Feliciano killed so that I would  _participate_. When that didn't work, she tricked me into attacking what I thought was her, but in reality, I attacked a defenseless woman. Do you think that the reason she took Alfred—" he smoothed out the pages his fist had crumbled, eyes traipsing along messy handwriting, his throat not wanting to continue spewing out his thoughts. "Do you think that to complete this the sacrifices have to be offered by a direct descendent of the god being resurrected?"

"Familiar corner," Gilbert sighed.

Lovino chuckled derisively. "It's square fucking one but with less hope looking forward. Damn it!"

Ludwig cleared his throat past the fluttering of pages that flew to litter the floor. "We can't know that. It could only be a coincidence. You said that Tzeentch had been using Anubis. Whatever—"

"I can't count on anything that he fucking said, I know." He needed to calm down. He wasn't going to get anywhere by throwing things around. He needed to stay cool-headed if he was going to defeat this woman. He sighed. Play along, because what other option did he have? What conspiracies was crazier than this? He rose, exhaling as he took in the two blonds. These were going to be his partners through it all then. He would trust them. Because what fucking apparition of Tzeentch's would spew bullshit like this?

He could almost smile.

"You two are crazy bastards," he laughed.

"Wow, thanks, babe," Gilbert joked back.

"Okay, so then I guess the next course of action is figuring out how to stop her," Lovino decided with a nod of his head. "Good. Good!" He clapped. "If this is all true, then I'm not fucking connected to it all. And oh  _fuck_  is it nice that Antonio is on her side! Two birds one—" he laughed.

"Oh shit, he's losing it again."

Lovino put up his hand. "No, I'm fine. It's just a relief, not having to become a god and all."

"Again," Ludwig pointed out, "this could all just be speculative."

"Buzz, not buzz kill, Luddy," Gilbert sighed with a shake of his head. "He'll get it one day," he promised Lovino. Ludwig just rolled his eyes.

There was a laugh from the door. "You're finally bringing people together, Lov."

Lovino turned to see Feliciano. Immediately his joy defused. The kid was holding his side, blood apparent, soaking through his clothing. He grimaced with a smile. "I hate to break you guys up, but we have a visitor."

"Felici—" Lovino was stopped in his pursuit forward as the kid slumped along the doorframe and to the floor. He coughed as a new figure made its way into the room.

"Arthur," Gilbert sneered.

Lovino couldn't hold back his powers, but he was able to redirect his anger and instead create a shield separating Feliciano and the blond. With his emotions preoccupied he flew forward, attacking instead with his fists.

Arthur stumbled back, barely dodging the first attack and crashing into the wall behind him when the second attack hit.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Lovino demanded, standing over him.

Arthur wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. "You've gotten faster."

"Answer me, damn it!"

"I came to find you four." He put up his hands, but emerald eyes were dark, holding back the Brit's magic, no doubt. Why was he holding back? Was he not actually Arthur? "I came to help you guys."

"We don't take help from outsiders," Lovino sneered.

"Lovino, drop your shield so I can get to Feli," Gilbert ordered. Lovino did as he was told, clasping a hand at his side in a controlled, struggling ball.

He would not use his sword.

"If you were really here to help he wouldn't be bleeding, you bastard," Gilbert said from his place. His words were calm, though. "You've already betrayed us once. So, unless you want us to kill you, I'd suggest leaving now."

"He attacked me first. I did as little damage as I could; he just kept coming!" Arthur insisted. "I swear, I'm here to help you guys."

"Why?" Ludwig asked. "Who are you reporting back to?"

"No one!"

Lovino laughed dubiously. "Then I'm going to suppose that what you've come to offer us is information?"

Arthur seemed to take pause at that. "Yes."

"Then, no. We don't take help, and we sure as fuck won't be taking information, from outsiders." Lovino turned to walk away. His back was open, but if Arthur wasn't going to attack him with Gilbert and Ludwig in full health standing right there.

"There's more Confraternity members out looking for you for! And I can promise you that none of them will spare any of your lives."

"So, you were sent."

"No, that's not what I'm saying!"

"Leave, Arthur," Ludwig demanded lowly. Lovino shot him a glance. The tall blond was usually not one to joke-around, but this was a whole new level of scary.

"I went to try and find you guys. All the Neverborns have vanished."

"Yeah, we're aware."

Arthur put a hand to his eyes. "So, it's true then? You bloody gits are really working with Tzeentch?"

Lovino bent down, watching Gilbert work Feliciano's shirt off to access the wound. A deep cut etched into the boy's side, seared at the sides as if it had been a piece of sharp flame that had done it. The kid winced, grabbing Lovino's hand and biting a smile at him. "Sorry," Gilbert muttered.

"Actually, when you see her next, tell her that, no, we're not fucking playing," Lovino snapped at him.

"When I see—"

"Save the act, Arthur—or whoever the fuck you are. Just go. We don't want your help."

There was a long pause. "Okay, I don't get what's happening here," Arthur admitted.

"Can we really just let him go back?" Ludwig asked.

"Feli, where the—"

"Broke—" Feliciano gasped out, a vise grip digging nails into the back of Lovino's hand. Lovino ignored it.

"Then what do we do?"

Lovino could see the gears twisting in Ludwig's head. "We're not keeping him hostage. He'll try to gain our fucking trust and," he glared at Feliciano, though found it hard to hold with the gasping pain the kid was going through as Gilbert was pressing down on the wound to stop the bleeding, "some of us might fall for it. And we're not killing him. Until we understand what the fuck Tzeentch wants with us, we can't be killing anyone."

"We'll have to keep him until we can fix Dad's weapon. If he is the real Arthur then we can't have him running back to snitch on our location."

"I can put him under until I've found a way to fix it," Gilbert said. "Okay, Lovino get ready."

"Get ready for—"

Feliciano's grip was impossible, but it wasn't as powerful as his screaming. Gilbert had pulled something from his pocket and seemed to be searing the wound shut.

"What the fuck! Just stitch him up!"

"This will be more efficient. Keep him still!"

"Fuck!"

By the time Gilbert was done Feliciano was slumped into Lovino, tears just falling down his face lazily as he managed labored breaths.

Gilbert looked over the wound before looking up at Feliciano with a smile. "I'm surprised you didn't pass out."

Feliciano managed a shaky laugh. "So am I."

Lovino held the kid gently, sending Gilbert a glare that both thanked him and also  _threatened his life_.

"I'm not here to spy on you guys. For Tzeench or for the Confraternity."

Gilbert sighed, standing up and sending him a look that screamed  _shut up before I burn you next_. "Then why are you here, Arthur? We don't have time for your shit."

"Anubis sent me."

Lovino laughed and loved the sound of Gilbert joining him. Did this fucker understand how out of an inside joke one could get? "Yeah, that's going to fucking convince us," Lovino laughed. "A spy sent in by another spy, how rich! Seriously, send T my best. Also, tell her that by the end of this all, she will be dead. That's all."

"He said that he made a mistake—"

"Arthur," Gilbert sneered, his humor only glowing in his eyes now, "a mistake is putting a cup of salt in a recipe instead of a tablespoon. If what you're saying is true, and you believe it, then you really don't understand the stakes, do you? This is not a mistake. This is a colossal fuck up."

"He didn't tell me what he did. Just that you guys would need some help. He said that my knowledge would help you guys."

"Speaking of,  _where exactly_  did you get your knowledge?" Lovino demanded. "On the Neverborns, mostly. It's weird that you knew exactly where they were at all times, isn't it? That you encouraged me to fight them. A training exercise or a fucking introduction?"

"What do you—"

"I mean: I find it fucking hard to believe that you didn't know that Anubis was working with Tzeentch."

Arthur stood to stand but Ludwig screamed at him to get back on the ground. Scary. "That's what he's apologizing for?"

"Apologizing, fucking funny," Lovino sneered. He lowered his voice, though, when Feliciano looked up at him, flinching away from his yells. Lovino sighed, silently willing the kid to sleep. The bags under his eyes and the pain Lovino was sure he was going through really weren't going to hold up for much longer.

Arthur seemed to shake himself out of the shock. "I never betrayed you guys. Sometimes orders have to be followed if one is going to get the information they needed to. I knew that the Order was targeting Lovino for something, but it wasn't until the order came into arrest him that I was told  _why_. And it wasn't until all three of you guys disappeared that base was attacked."

"Attacked?" Gilbert asked.

"You saw the forest—or, the rest of it. I'm sure you guys remember Antonio, well it seems—"

"He's on Tzeentch's side, we know," Ludwig said.

"Not only that, but he has more than  _Hollows_  in his army. It seems like other, smaller Neverborns have joined the game. We were able to wipe out the first few waves, but when the  _Hollows_  came in we were overpowered and forced to relocate."

"Then why are we you guys' first target. Why the hell aren't you guys going after Antonio?" Lovino demanded.

Arthur paused with a pensive sigh. "Because it wasn't Antonio leading the army, it was Lovino."

"Fucking Tzeentch!—Sorry, Fell—fucking Tzeentch. I—"

"Anubis told me that it wasn't you, that it was her, and that I needed to help you guys before more people are killed."

"Wearing my skin doesn't make it count as my murder, right?" Lovino asked desperately.

"What?" Arthur asked.

"I'm sure it doesn't," Ludwig sighed. "Is that all you came to tell us? That the Confraternity was attacked?"

"I came to help. I'm not here as a spy for you guys or for the Confraternity. I just want this chaos to stop."

Lovino smirked into Feliciano's hair. "Funny."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Uh, insert words idk_

RaiderR  _9-17-18_

_I'm glad you like them! There's gotta be a shred of good in this shithole, right? And, please refrain from killing our friends. We need them. Don't worry about not commenting! Thank you for reading it, really! I hope that you feel better soon, doll. Also, you do understand how much of a psychopath you sound like, right? xD Here's my favorite serial killer. "I'd love to join once I gain enough confidence." I mean, you do you, boo. (Also, fun fact, I mentioned the theory that Blackwood was a midwife because there was a theory that Jack the Ripper was actually Jane the Ripper and was a midwife and, well, appreciate that as you will.)_

COMMENT! Wowiiie, lots going on here. What do you think is the truth?


	42. Quarante-Deux

Lovino shrugged Feliciano onto his shoulders. The kid trembled, his breath haggard against Lovino's ear, the cross he wore around his neck pressing into the back of Lovino's neck. He silently apologized to him as he started walking towards the medical ward.

Gilbert and Ludwig followed close behind, the latter of the two in control of the Confraternity member. Lovino knew that they had his magic to worry about, but he was also confident that the blond wouldn't try anything funny. Not if he was looking to get information out of them.

Gilbert took to the front of the group when they made it to the dark room. "Put him down there," he ordered. Lovino did as he was told, careful as he put the kid down and laid him back on the cot. Gilbert was quick to find the powdered salve that seemed to be his answer to every scrape and cut and burn.

"Lo—"

"Go to sleep, Fell, we got this," Lovino assured, wishing that the kid would be practical for once.

Gilbert sighed, standing and twisting the cap back onto the salve. "It'll heal," he determined.

"Wow, thanks for the diagnosis, doc," Lovino muttered under his breath.

"You should rest for now, too, Lovino. You've done a lot today."

"We still have more briefing to do, not to mention the fucker that's showed up." Ludwig was standing in the doorway with the British man who just stared downwards. What was his angle? What was he trying to fucking accomplish?

Gilbert just moved past him, motioning for Ludwig to follow as he started down the hall. "We'll recap in a little bit. And, don't worry about the traitor. I'll personally introduce him to Freddy."

Lovino sighed, collapsing into his own cot. His extensions during his fight with Ludwig followed up by his tendency to punch shit like a child really wasn't helping his case when it came to healing. It did, however, help him focus. Laying back he laced his hands behind his head.

So, he might not have to become a god after all.

What was the trade-off for that? That he'd have to always be on his toes, afraid to be rendered some killer for a crazed entity looking to regain power? To resurrect power.

He closed his eyes. Arthur showing up really did push him towards wanting to trust Gilbert and Ludwig more. Was that the angle? To make him feel isolated, and then use outside forces to force him into trusting the close crew that had practically been assigned to him? All the information that he had been given—it made him feel better. That wasn't a good fucking sign. Defeat Tzeentch just by not killing people. Great, fun, easy.

Too easy.

What was the angle here? What was his next course of action? Does he choose to accept help and information blindly from these people?

No, he takes everything with a grain of salt. He had to. It was the only way—

He washed the images of the woman from his head.

He stole a glance towards Feliciano. The kid would no doubt insist that they hear the Brit out. Lovino couldn't fully trust him, either. Because he was the greatest card against Lovino's decisions, and because if he was actually himself and not just an image he was also an idiot. And, if he agreed with Lovino about not listening to the Brit, then Lovino was sure to be unable to trust him. It would be mighty convenient for him to have a sudden change of heart about giving everyone a fair god damn trail. Wound or not.

Lovino groaned, returning his vision to the shadows of the ceiling.

Fuck. There was no way for him to prove that they were real. What was he supposed to fucking do? Everyone manipulated everyone to get what they wanted, it was how the world fucking worked, and if someone was to act selfishly then they really weren't because they gain something even if it's by losing everything. People were just experiences and fucking patterns between neurons, just as Gilbert had said. Maybe making a true version of one was impossible, but Lovino was ignorant to anatomy. All he saw were actions and all he heard were words, and those fucking things were easy to fucking manipulate, damn it.

So how did one prove anything was fucking real!? How could he look Feliciano in the eyes and know that his kisses weren't to just get him to follow him? How could he prove that the kid wasn't just some concoction of Lovino's memories and emotions? Fucking strange that it was when Lovino had decided that the kid meant more to him that he upped and fucking confessed, wasn't it? And then immediately they were on a roof and Lovino was expected to commit another murder? This—his feelings, were they being used against him? Why would Feliciano make this fucking change of character so drastically? Because he was  _worried_  or because he was  _in love_  or because he was just pulling Lovino along.

Lovino would have to act independently.

Work with the team, but never trust them. Listen to their information—but, damn it, he couldn't count on them to not be feeding him lies. He needed to figure shit out on his own. And even then, he couldn't be sure that information wasn't being planted. To make everything seem as if it fit to make him trust the others. He couldn't count on information that made everything look like a lie, either, because if Tzeentch caught onto his paranoia then she could easily use it against him.

Isolate mentally, then isolate physically.

Was that the angle? Was Arthur sent to get Lovino alone? Get him to not believe anything?

FUCK.

He closed his eyes.

What was happening? What was fucking happening—where did this all start and where the hell was it supposed to end?

It started with a kid.

Lovino rolled onto his side, groaning as pain flashed around his ribs.

A kid that wanted to be found but Lovino never did. Gilbert had told him that ghosts weren't real, hadn't he? Said that once an energy wasn't enough to maintain a body it went to the Afterlife. Then how did Gabriel exist? Was that a sent vision?

Visions—he had vision of Feliciano getting hurt—and that girl Natalie. How did those two things tie in? If it was just Feliciano, then maybe Lovino would have thought that it was because he was the Golden Mean or whatever the fuck that meant, but it wasn't. So, what was the pattern between those two things?

Ghosts and visions, what was the bridge?

He would have to answer that with Antonio. Antonio was the bridge. He was the one who had killed Gabriel, who was trying to kill Feliciano to cover his tracks, and whose  _Hollows_  were trying to recruit Natalie.

How long had Antonio been working with Tzeentch. Was it a new advancement or was it old and meditated? A psychopath and an entity with an agenda. How long had Tzeentch had Anubis on her side? Lanze—the all seeing fucking Neverborn. Was it all seeing because Tzeentch had been watching him, or because Tzeentch had created the environment he was in? For how long? How fucking long, damn it!

What memories could he trust? His parents? His school? His job? What could he trust to have not been in the grasps of someone readying him to be a pawn. Anubis had said that he was the last choice for Chaos's seat to be secured—was that true?

Lovino was a liar, Lovino had spent his whole life speaking out of his ass to get away with consequence because he happened to not think before he acted. Think afterwards. It was always more fun when it worked. He knew one thing when it came to lying, and that was the best lie was always planted in the foundation of the truth.

That meant one of two things:

Everything was fake

Or

Nothing was fake

It was a choice between black and fucking white. All of his memories and feelings and consistencies throughout life either had to be an all or nothing to make inconsistencies work. To make a ghost child and handful of visions to seem odd then the common sense, the idea of reality would have had to told him that these things were odd.

If everything was fake, wouldn't it be more practical to just have these law set in the norm?

Lovino was human. Lovino was made up of his experiences and his patterns between neurons. Those things are easy to manipulate, so why not just fucking manipulate them to be in agreeance from day one?

It would be more fucking practical, would it not?

Tzeentch was the Neverborn of ambition, of manipulation, of planning and adapting. There was no reason to dip in circles. It did nothing for her plan of resurrecting Chaos. If anything, it was a hinderance.

So, then everything was real. However—

If everything was real then why the fuck wasn't everything fake?

Tzeentch could go onto the String. Tzeentch could use her powers on the String. Why didn't she just go back in time to make Lovino's life from day one a training camp to live out her plans?

Wait.

Lovino flew out of his cot and towards the hall. He didn't stop until he made it to Ivan's office. Gilbert and Ludwig were there but the Brit wasn't.

"Where the fuck is he?" Lovino demanded.

"Old camp," Gilbert sighed. "Lud wouldn't let me put him in the cage. I filled him up with anesthetics, don't worry."

Lovino left before Gilbert could finish. Old camp was a couple of doors down. The blond was on the ground, his eyes closed. Lovino cursed loudly, grabbing up the Brit by the collar.

"Wake the fuck up," he demanded.

Green eyes bleared his direction. Good, he wasn't asleep yet.

"Can you speak?"

"Yeah—I—"

"When did Tzeentch escape the Neverworld? You said that the Neverworld was created to house the left-over energy of Neverborns created by Chaos, didn't you? You said that the last four were banished there. It was a prison, wasn't it?"

Arthur nodded drunkenly.

"So, when the fuck did Tzeentch escape!"

Arthur just nodded again, lulling to sleep. Lovino cursed and let him go.

If Lovino was right, then everything was real because if it was fake then he would have never been in a position to release Tzeentch in the first place. If Lovino was right, then Gilbert was right, too. Wrong place, wrong fucking time.

Lovino could resist the idea of helping because it was his own stupidity that put the plan into action!

He found his face in his hands. "I'm a fucking idiot," he muttered to himself. "I'm a fucking—" he cut himself off.

Now, then, the question was whether the Neverborn of ambition had the power to see into people's head. She could manipulate reality around her, but could she play Despair's game and see into a person's thoughts and memories?

Memories, they were faulty. Just as he was created by his environment, his opinions and feelings were what created how he perceived his memories. It made sense why Despair would be able to tap into that. Despair was the Neverborn of fucking emotions. Was Ambition really something that could do that?

Lovino paced the room. He would have to test it out. But, how? A lie in the truth was the best type of lie. He needed to speak out of his ass—but he needed to convince himself just as much as he needed to convince the others.

Lovino made his way back to the medical ward. This would take time. He grabbed Gilbert's clipboard and pen, silently cursing the notes that he found (was he really documenting their weak points? The fuck, Gilbert?) before taking a blank piece. Sitting down he focused.

Feliciano. He was someone that was there with him when everything was normal. He had been too great an influencer to be Tzeentch. So, Feliciano. Lovino closed his eyes and pictured his memories with the kid. Adventures and fuck boy smiles and talks about girls and attempts to get Lovino to follow the dumb fucking word of God. Feliciano—Lovino needed a memory that was obvious enough that Feliciano would remember, but something obscure enough that Lovino could alter it. The best lies are in the truth.

And then he had it.

A trip to a fucking art museum. It was their first trip together. Feliciano had been so excited because his mother's work was being displayed and he had dragged Lovino along with him. Lovino didn't recall enough about the sculpture to change that, so he quickly considered things that he could change. Things that would be obvious to the  _real_  Feliciano. Something big to them, small to the rest of the world.

He smirked. Quickly he wrote down the six words that would either strip him or provide him with an alley. He ripped out the piece and stuck it into his pocket. From there he wrote a note to himself:

Phase two was convincing himself of the lie without tying the making of a lie to the lie that he was creating. So, he couldn't do anything practical to remember the lie. Couldn't write it down a million times to remember it. He wasn't trying to remember the lie, he was trying to rewrite the truth with the lie, so he had to make the idea of making something none existence. He had to convince himself that what he was doing was just recalling a memory without making it seem like recalling the memory was intentional.

His jaw tightened. This really was going to take time, wasn't it? Still—he stared over to the boy, shaking with nightmares or because he was in pain or perhaps both.

He needed to find a way to prompt a conversation. If he was going into it with a goal in mind, it wouldn't work. Find a way to prompt the kid to say something to him.

But how? It was such a random memory. How could he get on topic without immediately considering the details and therefore the change in details?

Taking a deep breath, he decided to go out on a limb. With the pen he picked his way towards Feliciano. He stole the boy's hand carefully, trying to keep him from waking up.

Hopefully this would fucking work.

In bold letters he wrote "Golden Mean."

Retreating he sat on his cot and let out the breath he had been holding. Good, that was done. He had his lie, he had what he hoped to be a working prompt, and the final step would be to learn how to clear his mind.

It would be close to impossible to truly forget the motive behind the memory without a couple months to trick himself into actually believing it, he realized. But, if he could rewrite the initial recalling of the memory, and also learn how to clear his mind, then maybe he could trick the system enough to make it all work!

His head fucking hurt.

This was fifteen fucking limbs out, he knew, but it was something. It was something that could maybe help prove that maybe he had friends in this battle and maybe that he wasn't insane.

Maybe maybe maybe, he fucking hated that word.

Taking a deep breath, he moved to clear his head.

* * *

Which would have been an easy endeavor if, one, sitting in silence didn't make him want to literally kill something and two, Feliciano could  _shut up_.

A small twinge a guilt came from the thought, but his frustration quickly batted it away. Feliciano was crying out in his sleep and it was fucking annoying to people who were trying to focus on fucking nothing, damn it.

Clenching his jaw he tried to call forth his inner yogi, but turns out his inner yogi was Gandhi's fucking arch nemesis and wanted nothing but to monopolize trades and take over the world. With a theatric sigh he hung his head and instead just focused on the little whimpers and cries that came from the cot a few paces away.

He wasn't going to wake the kid up. Feliciano hadn't been sleeping and it was apparent. Though Lovino wasn't exactly sure how well a rest one could get when they were crying and sniveling and moments of silence were short and disrupted by violent jerks. Maybe the meds Gilbert was giving him wasn't helping, maybe he wasn't taking any at all. Lovino wasn't going to try and convince the kid to be put under, either. Wouldn't even mention it, in fact.

So, what was he going to do?

Right. He was going to sit here and feel utterly helpless because he wasn't a therapist and there was nothing that he could do.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," he muttered to himself, chewing on his thumbnail before catching himself and pulling his hand away. The kid's stress was stressing him out.

His eyes fell to the unbandaged wound tarnishing the other's side. It looked bad, but Lovino was sure that Feliciano would live through it. He had lived through worse burns before, the scars around his bare torso evidence of the fact. Really all of this was fucked to hell.

Another violent jerk of this kid's body, pulling Lovino's heart and thrashing it into his throat. Fucking-A. Lovino scrubbed a hand down his face. He couldn't just sit here and watch this. Part of him wanted to go and comfort him, but he was sure that wouldn't help. Not only was the kid suffering a fresh burn, but this wasn't some stupid fanfiction where all aliments could be tended to by hugs and kisses. The kid needed a psychiatrist and years of fucking therapy.

He dismally wondered if Gilbert had tried playing therapist with Feliciano.  _How are you feeling,_ emotionally?

Maybe Feliciano needed that. Maybe he needed to talk out his dreams or write them down or get his fucking tea-leaves read.

Maybe Lovino can stop thinking himself into corners involving 'maybes.'

Lovino laid back gently, holding his head. It was throbbing something horrible and his attempts at clearing his mind were proving futile. He would try again later. For now, he would simply rest.

* * *

"Morning!" The shout came before the attack. Soon, Lovino was rendered to a sputtering mess beneath an energetic fucker.

Lovino pushed him off, immediately regretting his decision when the kid cried out and grabbed at his side. "Be careful, idiot."

"You be careful!"

"You don't need to be jumping on people!"

"It's not my fault that you're lazy and have been sleeping forever!"

Lovino grumbled at him, making his way to a sitting position. Feliciano eagerly took a seat at the foot of his bed. Lovino only needed to look at him once to see how shitty he looked. There was a flush to his cheeks at either came from recent tears or scrubbing away from or maybe even sickness, and his hair was tossed in fifteen million directions. "You're a fucking cartoon character," Lovino groaned leaning forward and pressing the back of his hand to the kid's forehead. "You should really be getting some more rest, you still look tired." The kid opened his mouth to respond, but Lovino cut him off. "Don't even try lying to me, I can see the bags under your eyes. I understand that you're having nightmares, but not sleeping is just going to make it worse. If I had google at my disposal I would read of some article, but I don't, and you can't tell me that I'm wrong because you don't have google either, bitch."

Feliciano giggled. "Strong ending, you should become a politician." Lovino just rolled his eyes, offering a checked smile. "Hey, why did you write on my hand?"

Blank. Blank. Blank. "Figure it out yourself." Blank. Blank. Blank.

Thinking of the word 'Blank' three million times in a row was totally gonna get 'em. Fuckers. Fuck—Blank, blank, blank.

"Alright, then," Feliciano said, finding Lovino's pen and stealing his hand. His head dipped as he wrote, showing just how tired the kid actually was.

Lovino blinked down at the word. "Why'd you write  _buttnugget_  on my hand, Feliciano?" he groaned.

"Figure it out."

"You're an ass. Now," he gently kicked the boy towards the edge. "Go back to your own fucking cot, bastard."

Feliciano protested with a low whine, going on about being bored or something else annoying and against the point. Lovino was sure that his kick wouldn't actually send him off the side, but when the kid fell into a coughing fit he freaked and, well now the kid was also on the fucking floor.

Sighing he laid back down. "Go back to bed, Feliciano."

"I told you that we couldn't leave them in the same room," Gilbert was groaning.

Lovino turned to look at the two that were walking in. "I think he has a fever."

Feliciano picked himself up and sent an empty glare Lovino's way. "Why'd you kick me off?"

Lovino just stood up and made his way out of the room. The kid would be unreasonable until he got some rest. Anyway, his head was feeling better and he was sure that he could get something productive done.

"Where are you going?" Ludwig asked him as he was leaving.

Lovino shot him a short look. How could he know that these two were real? If Lovino was the one to help get Tzeentch out, then their appearance happening before he was even brought to the Land Without Time would prove that they were, at least at one time, real.

Was he will to go off of that?

"Lovino," Gilbert said, cutting off his line of thought. Lovino hummed as he turned back. Red eyes scrutinized. "When I'm done here, I want to go over what you found out."

"I haven't found anything out," Lovino insisted.

"So, you attacked Arthur for nothing?"

Lovino shut his mouth, tried to clear his head but was falling dramatically short of  _not_  words, so his tangent of Blank became a thing. Feliciano started coughing again. Lovino cleared his throat. "His nightmares are pretty awful. He said you gave him some medication to help it."

A single, pointed glare before it was gone and Gilbert was acting nonchalantly defeated. "Yeah, I did."

"They're not working."

"Seems that they're not."

Lovino frowned, stuffing his hands into his pocket. Immediately he was reminded of the paper. Pointedly he kept on the subject at hand.

Feliciano pointed a frown in Lovino's direction. "I'm fine, Lovino."

Lovino just hummed his agreeance, turning and leaving. He only got half way down the hall before Ludwig was stopping him. "Lovino—"

"I'm busy. Meet me in the research room in a bit."

"Lovino," the tall blond insisted.

Lovino turned back. The blond took a long time to respond, and Lovino was close to turning and leaving. "You're acting up again."

"Excuse me?"

"You're acting like you don't trust us."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "I trust you now as much as I did before Arthur came into the picture. Why the fuck are you smiling?"

"I'm not. Your fists are shaking."

Lovino clenched his jaw. What was happening? He felt like he had taken five steps in the wrong direction. Was this part of Tzeentch's plan—

"What is your end goal here," Ludwig sighed.

"What?"

"What," his tone was slower, patronizing, "is your end goal here? When you were going to become a god it was to overthrow the Order. Let's pretend that you'll never become a god. What now?'

"To stop Tzeentch," he decided quickly, obviously, what the fuck was Ludwig going on about?

"From what?"

"Excuse me?"

"You don't know Tzeentch's plan."

Lovino could punch something! "What are you talking about! We discussed it! Her plan—"

"We went over one possibility before we were disrupted."

"What is you're point, Ludwig! What the fuck—"

The blond shook his head slightly, bringing up his wrist and typing into his watch. Before Lovino could finish his shouting the two were relocated.

It looked like Lovino was stuck in an arena one would see in a movie. It was vast but practically rubble. Lovino couldn't see beyond the walls. Ludwig was walking away from him, heading for the vast stone stands.

"Where are we?" Lovino demanded.

"It's another abandoned world," Ludwig shared easily. "My dad used it to house some of his inventions."

"Why the fuck are we here?"

Ludwig closed a gate behind him and made his way upwards until he became the spectator and Lovino the show. Lovino glowered at him from the dirt. What the fuck was this?

"My brother couldn't get you to talk," Ludwig said, "and it's because you won't just talk."

"Talk? I didn't figure anything out!"

Ludwig dismissed him. "Not about that. He couldn't get you to talk about your paranoia."

Lovino snorted derisively. "He told me to pretend like it didn't exist."

"Have you succeeded at that?"

"Peachily," he sneered.

Ludwig seemed to be growing annoyed with the brunet. He sighed, pressing a button. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions. Do your best to answer them."

"What the fuck are you—" Lovino was cut off by the sharp metallic groan behind him. He turned. A large gate was rising out of the wall from across the arena. Dust sprung and settled.

Silence.

And then the screeching of the gate was nothing in comparison of what came from the dark cavern. A red gleam, similar to Gilbert's eyes but at the same time no comparison, flashed before the bright skies above caught the shimmer of metal.

A robot without true form but also looking distinctly like a cat all at once made its way forward. A tail coiled along it's back before striking into the air and reveling a million blades.

"Now then," Ludwig announced loudly, "how are you feeling,  _emotionally_."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Ludwig is a great therapist._

_As a healthy reminder to all readers, just because Lovino inner-monologues something, doesn't make it true—though to a good extent he is on the right track. He is an unreliable narrator with paranoia issues that is trying his damndest to convince himself that his love interest is innocent. This chapter was included because you guys need to know how your protagonist is thinking before we can jump into the abusive therapy._

COMMENT! What do you guys make of Lovino's situation? Do you think that Tzeentch is manipulating his surroundings or do you think there's something more sinister going on? Comment your thoughts!


	43. Quarante-Trois

Lovino's teeth slipped into a gnash. What the fuck was this? He'd been bed-ridden for what could have been weeks and the moment he's well enough to start discussing he's also well enough to be pit against a mechanical beast?

Without thinking he found his first weapon of anger, but his head quickly intervened. Throwing a glance towards the blond, who was watching him with what looked to be  _boredom_ , Lovino let the weapon fall.

He would not attack.

This could be a trick.

The beast moved before he could consider what other options there were. Lovino jumped back, a swinging tail made of blades catching his arm, but only enough to draw a line of blood and rip his shirt. He re-established his energies around the wound and formed a domed shield around his opponent. At least, he had tried. The tail was swinging too fast, with recorded reaction rather than determinism, and Lovino's efforts were ricocheted as he was forced to jump out of the way.

"Damn it," he growled to himself, readying himself to try again.

"Are you refusing to fight?" Ludwig asked from above.

Lovino brushed off the blond's comment. Actually, he decided to make it a point to brush off  _all_  of the blond's comments. He wasn't going to let either of the psychopath brothers dip into his fucking head. Not to mention, this all but proved his worry. Why the fuck would Ludwig decide to pull him out here for  _therapy_? Right after he and Gilbert had decided that Lovino learned something that he wasn't sharing. Really, a child could figure out what was happening.

He needed to figure out how to defeat the fucking machine without drawing his blade.

He made a point to assess his surroundings. There was nothing in the pit with him, and aside from the open cavern that the lion had emerged from there were no blind corners. He stood in ruins, but somehow the rock was attached at the way around. There would be no way to trap the thing under a pile of anything unless Lovino could apply enough pressure near the lip where Ludwig sat. Of course, that could prove more troublesome if his actions were taken as an attack against Ludwig rather than the machine. Perhaps he could count on his own strength for another part of the wall—or perhaps he could force it back into the cavern and—

That was it.

Lovino practically jumped into the dirt, inches away from the cascading machinery. The lion yowled its screeching cry and the blades in its tail quivered before projecting outwards like a rain of bullets. Lovino, in a hasted movement, put a shield between himself and the attack. When the clattering was over he moved fast, dropping the shield and bounding forward, allowing his shield to string behind him, coming just off his palm.

His head throbbed and every inch the ghosted shield grew felt like a stab to his arm. He only let it settle and harden when the pain in his side threatened to send him sprawling in the dirt.

The lion made another attack and Lovino's head screamed  _mistake_  when he realized the shield would keep him from dodging it. In a cool, partially desperate, act Lovino continued forward, slamming his arm forward and, in turn, the shield.

It looked like the tail and the shield would collide, but the moment his shield was about to make contact the tail separated and dodged, continuing on its original path towards Lovino. Lovino expanded on his pain and put another black protective plate in between him and the metal. When the lion's tail hit he couldn't help but bite back a scream, his heels digging into the dirt as the beast took advantage of the second shield's instability. Lovino broke both shields, allowing them to fall into black ash before disintegrating, and threw himself into a dodging roll to evade the sharp attack that slammed into the ground only moments after.

"It will be called off after you answer my questions!" Ludwig called from his place above.

Lovino scrambled to his feet, a hand blocking his eyes from the sun's glare on the metal as he ran. The beast wasn't being controlled, everything that it was doing was what was programmed as a best move. (Unless there was something mighty scarier than a loose Neverborn that the Beilschmidt weren't telling him.)

With a heavy stomach and aching side Lovino elongated his shield once more. He could move it like a sword, but it was longer, flatter, duller. If he was going to attack, it would be with this.

Hoisting his creation in the air he set out to answer his question by slamming the shield forward towards the beast's chest.

His attack never hit. Like the tail, the beast's body seemed to separate into jumping pieces as Lovino's momentum sent his attack into the wall behind it.

"Motion sensors!" Lovino observed, dropping the shield.

He couldn't land a hit even if he wanted to. He tightened his jaw. He couldn't keep his shield up for much longer. What had been a small scrape in his arm became fire and his head wouldn't stop blending the pain into a throbbing fact.

"Lovino—"

"Shut up, bastard, I'm trying to think!"

"I didn't bring you here as a training exercise."

Lovino needed to find a way to get this creature back into its stony cage but without touching it.

He couldn't help but smirk. This would be a lot like his exercises with Khorne, wouldn't it? He wasn't allowed to land a punch. Of course, he would need speed and accuracy. There was not emotion or fear to feed off of.

It was the palpitation that came from unknowns that he threw forth to spin and harden. He didn't even bother running around the beast, using the jumbling of machinery to his advantage to send plates straight to the other side.

He jumped out of the way, pulling up a shield against flying blades.

Fuck, he wouldn't be able to keep up a shield and his mirrors at the same time. Throwing down the shield he took to running. The black plates of unfinished mirrors twisted and spun, waiting around the beast. The tail, however—

Lovino threw his anxiety to his feet, clenching his teeth, almost expecting the next sound to be the shattering of his molars. He mounted the plate before calling another and jumping to that. His head screamed at him that he was putting himself in a compromising situation, jumping on swirling stairs, running towards the heightened tail, but he just used that fear to create another step.

Just as the tail swung, exposed teeth, Lovino jumped, tucking his body into his legs as he bounded towards the machine's exposed back. His hand automatically formed his double edged sword, readying itself.

As he had expected, the machinery separated, allowing him access to the dirt below. The dust didn't even have time to rise before the sword was stabbed into the dirt and Lovino's mirrors sharpened silver and crashed together. The back of his hand threw forth one final disk just as the following tail took to his face. It hardened and gleamed.

Lovino rolled out from under the beast, hilt heavy in his hand. His eyes were only partially open, and his forehead trembled with concentration. He offered every ounce of energy he had to the mirrors that encapsulated the monster inside. The monster that attempted to break at all points and, therefore, was left fully intact.

Staying in the dirt, no choice otherwise, resting his forehead on his blade, Lovino focused on the mirrors as a chain. One being. He imagined every inch of it and how that inch acted and slowly, experimentally, moved an inch, and then two, never letting the chain break.

Excruciating was the experience. Slow, impossibly empty, afraid. The tension in his body caused even his breaths to shorten into almost nothing. Still, he pushed on. One inch at a time until the beast was forced to move, to walk. To walk straight into its den.

Lovino dropped the mirrors, throwing forth one final attempt, a mirror that would act as a door.

It silvered, the beast was contained, the only thing left of its presence the sound of shattering glass as it beat against Lovino's wall.

Lovino turned, rising on shaky knees, trying to blink away the trepidation in his throat that came from just having the wall up. He used his blade as a crutch. He needed to get out of there, and soon. If not, the wall would fall, he would be at square one but exhausted.

"Are—you happy?" he demanded, trembling fists an attempt to hide his weakness, the blade wobbling. He opened his eyes enough to glare.

"You haven't answered any of my questions," Ludwig responded, his body and hair and surroundings orange under a beating sun.

"I never agreed to answer any questions in the first place!"

"If you want me to call off the beast then you will answer me," his tone was cool, factual. "Unless you would like to risk your chances with coordinates."

Lovino sneered at him. He could use his own watch, but like Ludwig suggested he hadn't remembered the coordinates to the Renegade. Not to mention, even if he did, his focus was so painfully put into his wall that he would probably mess up.

"What are you so scared of," Ludwig asked, moving to rest his arms on his legs, blue eyes almost white in the glare. "Why won't you trust anyone?"

Lovino tried to stop his back from trembling under the growing pressure, but it was becoming impossible. Even using both hands to hold onto his sword he felt as if he couldn't keep himself up.

"Do you believe that we're trying to hurt you?"

Did he think that Lovino would fall for it? That he would think  _Wow, that sounds silly. Why would they help me heal if they were trying to hurt me?_ Was this question supposed to evoke trust or doubt or—

He needed to clear his mind. The anxiety had climbed to his vision. Everything was blurred, but Lovino didn't break his glare. Didn't let on that he was no longer breathing.

"Do you think that we're plotting against you? Plotting to take you back to the Confraternity?"

Another stupid question with an obvious answer.

"Lovino, what are you most afraid of?"

His hold was breaking, his head was answering in vivid detail. The stronger his doubts became, the stronger his sword and his wall became, the further it felt his innards fell, leaving him empty and alone and—and alone. His glare was practiced so it wouldn't falter. That was the only thing he was sure of.

Everything else scared him.

HIs wall crumbled and all at once he was careening into the dirt, sword no longer holding him up. He balled his hand into the dirt and returned his gaze upwards. Without the two weapons he felt lighter, but as always there was an overcast left.

"What are you afraid of?"

The whines didn't come, the fucker must have—he cut off his line of thought, the pain in between his eyebrows was too great. It wasn't his choice anymore, his head hung itself and his breaths were fast into the dust. He kept his eyes open. For show, for comfort, for spite—whatever it was kept the world open and dizzying. Stars came with no breath, stars came with fast breath, stars came.

"Why do you refuse to answer my questions?"

"Because you're an asshole!" Lovino screamed, wanting the fucker to just shut up. The sun was too bright here. He dismally wondered if he should form a dome around himself. Keep it up until the pain either stopped his heart or stopped his head.

"Why are you angry?"

"Because your shoving your fucking nose where it doesn't belong!" Automatic answer, he ground his teeth, something along his arms tittering at him, asking him why he was such a bad liar.

There was a long bout of silence after the blond's responsive sigh, but it was broken by the sound of a gate opening.

No, Lovino was weak here. No.

He scrambled backwards, his desperation calling a plate and putting it in between him and the advancing threat. It pulsed from black to silver within moments.

Lovino tried to calm his nerves, his head, his breathing, while the blond was out of sight. If he advanced further—no, Lovino couldn't attack, he—

"Do you not think that I know my own fears?" the blond sighed. He stepped around the mirror, calm demeanor.

Lovino looked like a fool, cowering in the dust. His mirror broke.

"I understand my weaknesses," Ludwig continued, "and therefore I can live with them."

"I understand—"

"What are you afraid of, Lovino?" His tone was so calm, more mechanical than the beast dead in its cage.

Lovino balled his fists. "I'm not scared, damn it!" he screamed. "I know what you are, and I'm not—"

"What am I?"

Hold the glare, clear the mind, push through the pain. "Fake."

Ludwig took a moment, allowing his gaze to wonder as he thought of what to say. Lovino wanted to scream at him not to bother. There was nothing that he could say to convince—

"You can conjure my fears, yet you cannot reflect my authenticity?" Lovino blinked, swallowing his bite. "You can know so much about me that you show me  _that_ , yet you still push against the idea of me being real?"

"Shut up, I'm not falling for your trap. I'm—find another fucking—"

"I'm sure Gilbert mentioned Rene Descartes to you." He moved on so easily, as if everything he said was just a flashing puzzle piece to be examined but never constructed.

"No, he ne—"

" _I think, therefore I am_." He was sighing away, not even listening to Lovino. The questions were rhetorical, Lovino was left in the dirt, pathetic and ignored. "It was a part of an interesting philosophy. See, Descartes decided that he didn't know anything was real apart from the fact that he existed. He couldn't trust his body, his surroundings, his friends or family. As far as he could be sure, none of them existed. As far as he could be sure, everything was a construction."

"Don't you see—"

"Except, he also realized that to be constructed there must be a constructor. So, what started as one piece of knowledge quickly became two. From there he was able to rebuild his life and his knowledge and, in the end, he reports to coming to the conclusion that practically everything in his life that he doubted was true."

"Great!" Lovino spat, sick of being ignored. "That doesn't fucking help me here. That doesn't make my doubts go away, damn it. That doesn't make this place real, doesn't make you real, doesn't make anything real, damn it. It means that you've fed me another fucking thought experiment. It means that you're trying to convince me to believe so. Why? So that I can help defeat Tzeentch or so I can fucking participate?"

Ludwig finally acknowledge him. "What are you most afraid of, Lovino."

"Stop asking that!" Lovino screamed, throwing his hand outwards. The plate swirled and panned, but when it silvered the mirror was faced towards him.

"You are real," Ludwig said as the mirror fell. Lovino fixed his eyes shut. Every inch of his body trembled. "That is your truth one. What is your second truth?"

"That I hurt people," he muttered, clenching his jaw.

"Are you afraid of what you've done or what you may do?"

A pregnant pause that sat between them, on one heavy, the other light. "Both." Lovino hated how his voice sounded. Was he going to be defeated here? Was he going to let this fucker beat him? He could feel how the trembling increased, how his doubts formed into the fear of an attack, grew into his pain. He was falling into the bastard's trap! What information did he have that Tzeentch wanted? What could he do to help her? What did she want? Why would she send such an imbecile? To tear down his guard?

What does she want? What is real? He is real—is he? Is he real? What does she want?

He opened his eyes to sneer or glare or throw a defense, but instead he found the hilt of his double etched sword. He found himself staring into it. When he had used it against Slaneesh the world had been grey; all except the stone, hidden at the monster's core. Now, however, everything was in bright color. A normal mirror. Lovino raised it, discovering himself in the image. He was normal, he was in color.

His mirrors showed fears, anxieties, was did this show? Why was it different now?

Lovino screwed his eyes closed. He couldn't count on his sight. Why were the images so vastly different! The thoughts and how they drained proved to him that he did, in fact, hold the sword, but he couldn't trust what he saw.

Ludwig was saying something, but Lovino couldn't hear him. Couldn't trust what he heard.

What was real?

He pressed his forehead to the flat of his blade. It was comforting to the touch, impossibly painful when he considered how it felt he had succeeded at also putting the blade to his throat. He asked again, desperate, silent:

What was real?

The swirling smoke that so often formed around his body for armor was now something filled with pins and needles. It climbed up his throat, cracking through the pores but filling his mouth when he tried to scream.

Everything hurt.

And then he felt nothing.

His mind was clear, his breathing couldn't be hindered because it wasn't there, nor did it need to be, no longer did the pain in his head insist to be called upon. Everything was calm. Everything was blank.

And then he decided to open his eyes.

His bones felt like they crumbled, rice in a leather sake, while words and phrases flashed through his consciousness. What he saw was not a picture of color or black and white or anything—everything seemed to break into a blob, and it was not Lovino's sight that discerned the forms by the flashing phrases.

As if created by words the world rebuilt itself. Lovino refound the arena's vast walls and crumbled lips, he found every speck of dirt in painful detail, he found the strange buzz of the machinery behind him, not dead but stationary. And then he found Ludwig.

And then the creeping blackness that surrounded him before crawled over the words and the discovery. Then everything was black and the hindrances of life crashed into him, settling over the scar in his chest and ripping at him.

He grabbed at his chest, not surprised to find himself in the dirt as he gasped a mouthful of dirt and air. Writhing was all he could do for what felt like forever.

What was that?

Lovino found release through his tears, allowing the smooth, calming sensation to dripple across his skin. Slowly he found himself and was able to sit.

Ludwig was crouched beside him, saying something, looking rather worried. His words were mute beyond the ringing in Lovino's ears. He blinked and attempted to even stare but the sun was too hot and his head hurt. He closed his eyes and allowed his chin to sink into his chest.

He was real.

Lovino was real, and so was Ludwig.

They were real.

They were both real.

His reality was being painted by words. It was easier than painting it through sensory details. It was like textbook facts. He knew what was real, he knew what energy they let off, he knew what he could manipulate.

What he could manipulate.

Blackness turned to a grainy yellow and Lovino knew that Ludwig had used his watch. Reluctantly he opened his eyes. The Renegade, of course.

"I'm—" Lovino choked out, closing his eyes again to focus on the words of his reality. "I don't like being tricked. I'm afraid of being alone. I'm afraid that my power will hurt those around me. I'm afraid of growing too powerful. I'm afraid that I won't learn control but rather strength. I'm afraid of never knowing if my fears have come true."

Ludwig was real. Ludwig was real and Lovino could manipulate his mind.

"I'm afraid that I have too much power and too little control and that it will hurt those around me."

Tzeentch manipulated minds. She did not manipulate things around her. She was too weak for that. She used the mind. To see, to hear, to touch and taste and smell. She could only manipulate and plan. So she needed Antonio because she was weak.

"I don't want to be alone, but others are at risk around me. Both options scare me. Loneliness and potential to harm. "

His mind was perceptible to her. The gods on their thrones could not manipulate him into seeing their formed bodies, but this Neverborn could trick him. Why? Why did she have a power over him that full gods did not?

Lovino lulled his head into a shake.

"I'm afraid that I don't know."

There was a hand on his shoulder followed by a very Ludwig sigh. Lovino could almost smile. Perhaps there was more to this fucker than just being a fucker. Fucker.

Together they walked into the Institute. Lovino held a hand to his head, watching through carefully parted eyes. He didn't know why, but he could breath easy. It was a strange sensation, really, feeling like he had been torn apart and at the same time like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

"Wow, all in one piece," Gilbert said, interjecting their movements in the large court of a front room. "I thought you were going to use the big guns."

"I did."

Lovino sent a half-hearted smirk the albino's way. "That's the best your pops could come up with?"

Gilbert chuckled. "You deal with electrocution well."

Lovino grunted. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"He didn't run into the dome," Ludwig informed.

"Really? No cheap shots!"

"What?"

Ludwig sighed. "There's an invisible dome around the top of the arena. Anyone that touches it is electrocuted and usually put into a coma."

Lovino didn't have enough gusto to punch either of them, but he did have enough to send a glare. "Why the hell didn't you tell me? I could have died!"

"We were hoping that it would zap you into some sanity," Gilbert was chuckling. "But if you weren't electrocuted why do you look half-dead."

Lovino just grunted again.

"He over-exerted himself. Like we expected there's going to be some recovery time from this."

Gilbert nodded. "Alright. Well, did you make any progress? Is he sad because his girlfriend broke up with him?" Lovino mocked him with an ugly sneer. Gilbert just responded with a hissed laugh. "Alright, well I'll check him over before he passes out. Come on, ass."

Lovino rolled his eyes, following the albino with careful steps. By the time they made it to the dark room Lovino was ready to collapse, however once they made it in he found a new fever to be awake. Gilbert checked him over and he just stared.

"This isn't bad enough to need a bandage," he was saying as he applied the cleaning alcohol. The pain didn't even sting compared to the way the shields ached. Lovino frowned up at the albino.

"How is he?"

The question was pointedly towards the jerking boy in a few cots over.

"Sick, but I doubt it'll be long before he's well again. Some rest and he should be fine."

Lovino sighed. "He said that you gave him some pills to help him sleep."

Gilbert chuckled. "I did, but he doesn't seem to be taking them."

"Why?"

"Perhaps you're not the only paranoid one." Lovino frowned towards the floor, shrugging his shirt back on. "We talked a little bit and discussed a plan that should help him with his nightmares. He's going to try and stick to a regular sleeping schedule and he's going to keep a journal. What's needed from there will be decided." The blond sighed as he shot a glance in the boy's direction. "He'll never fully heal, but he will get better if he properly assesses his determination to it. There could be a bit of danger on your part when he relapses, though, so I might suggest setting up a separate place to sleep when the night terrors get as violent as they are now."

Lovino blinked up at him. "What the hell are you talking about."

Gilbert smirked, but not at Lovino. He was too busy turning to leave as he spoke to point the smile. "Looks like your path isn't divine anymore. Maybe it's time to start considering your future beyond all this mess." He put up a playfully dismissive hand as he rounded the corner. "I know I'll be hitting the ski ramps!"

Lovino frowned after him.

His…future?

A short laugh accompanied him as he laid back. The dark ceiling was a blessing compared to the sunny skies of the arena. He allowed his eyes to shut and his mind to clear.

Truly a weight had been lifted.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_I forgot to review the eggnog stuff I bought online a while back._

_It was good._

COMMENT! We've seen a lot of mixed writing styles in this. Action, meditative, psychotic, fluff-it's just, there's no rules, I guess. Which style is your favorite, and why?


	44. Quarante-Quatre

Lovino groaned, his legs becoming numb due to the stool's lip, his forehead resting on the island in Ivan's workspace. Gilbert was working at the back counter, the sound of tinkerings filling the room and nothing but.

"He's awake," Ludwig announced from the doorway.

Lovino didn't bother to rise. "Enough to speak?"

"Yes."

Yes. Lovino drew a heavy breath, the maze of questions running through his head. Red eyes stared, bemused and curious, at him as he picked his way off the stool and towards the door. "Let's get this over with, then," he muttered, towards Gilbert, to himself.

Arthur was groaning, rubbing at his face in a crouched seated position.

"Morning, sunshine," Gilbert announced loudly. Lovino frowned at him, the fraudulent friendliness both unnecessary and redundant. The albino didn't pay him any mind, bending that the waist to talk to the startled blond. "How was your nap?"

"Gilbert, we're not here to patronize him," Ludwig said calmly.

Gilbert stood with a dismissive air, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing the Brit with irritated eyes and upset fingers that drummed against his arm. Lovino quickly took his place, sitting in front of the quiet blond before Gilbert could throw the punch he was holding back.

"Anubis sent you?"

Arthur's eyes were sharp despite the grogginess that still took hold of his shoulders. Lovino knew the feeling, could sympathize, but couldn't push the small flames, tindered by distrust of the god and his intentions, flamed by the Brit's own endeavors, aside long enough to drop his careful gaze. It threatened, he knew. Arthur bowed his head into a short nod. "Yes."

"What all did he tell you?"

"Just that he made a mistake and that I needed to help you fix it."

"Why did you trust him?"

His hands settled in his lap and he took a long moment to think over his answer. "I've always trusted orders."

Lovino frowned. A man born and raised in the Confraternity, why wouldn't he trust his superior? Lovino had trusted him, hadn't he? Trusted him enough to fuck everything up. "Are you prepared to follow this order still?"

"I—" the Brit cut himself off. His hair was disheveled, more so than Lovino had ever seen before, but he didn't seem to notice. The side-effects of the drug was probably taking action.

Lovino stood. "Do you know anything about Tzeentch's scheme?" Arthur's face said no, and it took to something of shame or, perhaps, ridicule behind his eyes.

"The information I have comes from the Confraternity. I know more about the forces pushing against Tzeentch than I do Tzeentch's actual motives or plans. Though—"

"What do you know about creating gods?"

Ludwig cleared his throat. "Lovino, I don't think—"

Lovino straightened. "Ludwig, I think that Arthur could be a resource, but we're going to have to be specific."

Gilbert practically snorted. "Oh, Lovino's the trusting one now?"

"Why do you trust me?" Arthur asked. His face had tightened into something stern, maybe even suspicious.

"I trust you because I can manipulate you."

It was a simple answer. A simple answer that refused the knot of release. It wasn't like in the arena, everything looked normal, but ever since he had come back everything had  _felt_  different. It felt like if he just reached out and fiddled with the stringy realities that made up a person's head he could create anything. The feeling was only apparent around people, though. He wasn't sure how it would be around a Neverborn, but something, an instinct rather than a chronic thought, told him that it would be different. Maybe it was because Lovino couldn't manipulate himself. He had been trying for hours.

Arthur offered a small smile to the floor. "So, you've fought Tzeentch then?"

"How do you know so much about the Neverborns?" Lovino demanded.

"What I know about the Neverborns is what I have been taught by the Confraternity and by the Order."

It was Gilbert that spoke up here: "The Order? What do you mean taught by the Order? When?"

"There has always been a select few that have known about the Neverborns and the Neverworld. It's a security seeing as the descendent of Chaos is allowed to live. For as long as I know it has been the Kirkland name to keep it. When the String destined Lovino to kill in cold blood was when I was put on his case in full."

"Was it everyone in the Order or just Anubis?" Lovino asked.

"Anubis. He  _is_  the god of judgement."

Lovino blinked. "What does that mean?"

"Every god has a statement job," Ludwig explained. "Anubis is just and therefore he gardens the Afterlife."

"That doesn't make much sense," Lovino muttered, but when Ludwig moved to explain in full he put up his hand. "We'll discuss it later. For now, Arthur, what do you know about Tzeentch?"

"She is a mental power of Chaos. She uses manipulation tactics to trick others into doing her bidding."

Great, so he didn't know anymore than Lovino. "She can manipulate minds, but can she read them? If I were her and you were plotting against me, would I know?"

"I can't be positive on that."

"She can manipulate me; can she also manipulate the other Neverborns?"

Arthur nodded. "She can manipulate Slaneesh and Khorne, but because Nurgle is also a mental power she cannot manipulate him."

"You're positive about that?"

"Yes, it was one of the first things I learned. There are foils within Chaos, ambition and despair, violence and life. The two mental foils cannot affect one another, and the two physical ones hate each other."

"What do you know about Tzeentch's plot to get the Neverborn's together?"

There was a long pause. Arthur sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I know that she was trying and failing. Multiple times she's tried to convince them to form something of a coup. To overthrow the Order and regain power in the name of the Warp. It was no surprise. Khorne wanted to kill everything, Tzeentch wanted to rule everything. It was in their nature as such restricted beings."

Lovino nodded. "Do you know how she got out?"

"It was my fault that she was able to. I didn't think of the precautions when we were traveling back and forth. I imagine that it only took one time before she secured the means of travel on her own."

"No, I don't doubt it. She said that she had been manipulating Anubis. Is that possible?"

"To manipulate a god?" Arthur asked, thick brows furrowing. Lovino just nodded. "I wouldn't imagine so. I can't recall any accounts of the Warp being able to successfully manipulate the Order. I'm sure it would have been mentioned if she could."

Gilbert nodded, "I'm sure she would have succeeded if she could."

Lovino frowned at his feet. "Then what the fuck did she mean? Would Anubis listen to her?"

_It sounds like he's in love._

Could Feliciano's stupid theory pan out? Could Anubis have been blinded by his own adoration for the original Warp? If so, why would he go back on it now? "Is it possible for a human, even a demi-god, to become a god?" Lovino asked quietly.

"No."

Lovino clicked his tongue. "Asshole," he muttered under his breath, hoping their god of justice got bitten by a crocodile of fuck you. "Then, is it possible to resurrect a god?"

Arthur blinked up at him, turned his attention slowly to Ludwig and then to Gilbert. "Why?"

"It's looking like your man of justice," Gilbert said, though the anger in his tone had died down to humor, "might have created a resurrection stone just for that."

"The missing Neverborns—" Arthur cut himself off. Lovino hadn't expected him to look as terrified as he did. "You think that Tzeentch is attempting to resurrect—that—so much of the Warp's energy was left behind in the Neverworld—"

"What else would it require?" Lovino demanded. "The Neverborns and what else?"

Arthur shook his head up at him. "I don't know. Never has a god been resurrected."

"But if there was going to be one!"

"Lovino, calm down," Ludwig demanded.

Lovino balled a fist. "Are the Neverborns enough energy to bring back the Warp."

"Maybe."

"Would," he asked through gritted teeth, "there need to be any further sacrifices.  _Human_."

Green eyes swam. "I don't know." He was fucking helpful, wasn't he? "For a god to be resurrected it would take an impossible amount of energy. Gods don't have physical forms, once they're gone, they're gone. Resurrection needs a form. I—"

"Would a Neverborn count as a form?" Gilbert asked.

Lovino closed his eyes. Fucking-A. "She is the goddamn brain of the operation, isn't she?"

"She has the stone, so if she hasn't moved yet that means that she needs something else," Ludwig muttered.

"What do you know about the life-death toll?" Lovino asked. "Anubis said that he keeps a list, how many someone has killed and how many they have birthed—does its significance go beyond trivia?"

"It's been mentioned to me. The Afterlife is made up of seven different sectors. It is the count of life and death that decides which sector each energy goes into."

"Like Hell," Lovino concluded.

"The basic idea, yeah. Every time someone kills, their energy is clogged, weighed down, but when they give birth their energy is heightened. It's also a thing of levels. When someone kills, they gain energy, but not life. So, they die but do not disappear as quickly as someone who had never killed, and, likewise, when one gives birth they give up their energy and will disappear quicker. Anubis is the one that can see these levels and therefore can rightfully judge them to where they belong."

"Are the—the  _clogged_  energies, are they more powerful?"

"In way of duration, yes."

Silence. Heavy and stifling. Lovino broke it, his head wanting nothing more but to spill rather than throb. "Anubis told me that Chaos had planned for this, for the stone to be used, for a descendent to be born. I may not be a Neverborn, but in some way I am a part of her. Is it me next? Is Tzeentch waiting for me to become stronger before absorbing me?"

"Could be," Gilbert agreed, but his face held something back. His tongue didn't. "But if you refuse to participate, she may have to go to the last descendent."

Lovino had to consciously  _not_  glare at him. It wasn't his fault this shit was fucking happening. "So, my parents could be in danger?"

"Your mother," Arthur confirmed.

Lovino blew a tight breath. "How the hell is she a descendent of fucking Chaos? My whole fucking life she's been nothing but—" he couldn't find the word, so he made an exasperated noise paired with a theatric extension of his hands. He let his arms drop. What was he doing? "Fuck."

"If Anubis is looking to fix his mistake, then maybe he's be willing to give us some information," Ludwig said simply.

Lovino shook his head at the ground. "Can we trust him? Fucker's the one that started this mess."

"What other choice do we have?"

"There are forces working against Tzeentch," Arthur informed them. "The Confraternity is working to find and exterminate Antonio, Tzeentch, and you four." he cut himself off.

"All four of us?" Arthur nodded back. Lovino couldn't help but dig his nail under his thumb bed. He needed to pretend to be an optimist here, he needed to see something good about this, but he couldn't. Tzeentch, some Illuminati military, fucking gods—how the hell could Lovino even think that he could get out of this?

"I came on orders from Anubis to find and help you four. I still have my rank and my clearance, the only issue will be convincing them to trust you long enough to not kill you on the spot. The Order has refused every summon that has bee sent since the attack."

"Won't it look strange to them," Gilbert mused, "that you had a secret meeting with the gods and then just disappear. And then if you come back with the enemy—" something took to his features, something sick and amused. He clicked his tongue and looked away. "Is it possible that this fraudulent coup could cause a very real coup d'état? Is it possible that maybe, in her time off, Tzeentch has decided to play you all a fool and try her own hand at chaos? To practice." By the end of his speech his light tone had gained the air of a chuckle.

"Are you suggesting that Anubis is still on Tzeentch's side?"

"Am I, Lovino?"

Lovino looked up, his sight snared by the impossibly pale Cheshire across from him, and studied the albino for a long minute. "We already know that she's targeted your forces to try and pin something on me. We also know that to some extent she wants to keep me alive. I don't think that trusting Anubis is a good option. It could easily be a trap like Alfred." There were a million other paths, a million other motivations. But, Lovino didn't have time to doubt his fucking gut right now, damn it. Gilbert's grin showed that all of this was just a fucking joke to him, but Lovino didn't have time to consider that, either. "Arthur, if you're going to stay with us then I want you to continue training me. Let's treat this like the other three Neverborns."

"You don't have fifteen shots at this one," Arthur muttered.

"I have one. That's all I need."

* * *

Arthur decided to stay, in the end. Lovino was relieved, though he didn't spend much time on it. "Arthur," he said, distracting the blond's attention from the map he had currently laid out in front of Ludwig and Gilbert. They were planning new routes to securing food rations without drawing attention to themselves.

The two of them stepped into the hall. Lovino studied his expression for a long moment. It was different from what he had known at the base, but he couldn't place how. "What do you know about the Golden Mean?" he asked, playing the Birt's stone-faced game himself.

"I know that it is a force that connects you and your friend's energies. I know that when the two energies are acting together it had the power to kill species of the void, such as  _Hollows_."

"What about the energies are connected? If it was just our energy I'm sure that you could figure out a device to recreate it, put it into a weapon."

"As I'm sure these apostates have tried."

"But they haven't succeeded."

Green eyes slitted, the first form of defiance, or perhaps discomfort, that he had shown since waking up. "I don't know what was accomplished here other than tyranny."

A monarchy type; Lovino rolled his eyes. "Save your pride for later. Is the Golden Mean something passed along like my powers?"

"In family lines?"

"Yes."

"No. As far as I know the Golden Mean is nothing but lore, but seeing as you two did accomplish to kill a  _Hollow_  I'm forced to admit that it's true. Nothing but the orientation was shared to us. A chaotic god and a dying bear; I'm sure you can understand why it's ridiculed."

"I'm not able to manipulate the gods, why?"

Arthur blinked, "I wouldn't know that. I've already told you everything I know on that subject."

"Is there any way that—" he cut himself off. Fuck, he really needed to get out the childish fear of saying things out loud. "Do you think that Feliciano's energy would be keeping me from being able to manipulate him?"

There was a long pause while Arthur allowed the implications to that to sink in. He smoothed down the cuff of his shirt with a frown. "I wouldn't know," he decided honestly. "In theory that could be true."

"But in theory it could also mean that he's not who he says he is."

Arthur sighed. "I'm not saying yes or no to this. All I'm saying is that I don't know. My knowledge on the Golden Mean is close to nothing."

Lovino nodded, turning away and scrubbing a hand down his face. "Okay, yeah, you're free to go," he groaned, making his way down the hallway.

It sounded like the only sure way to make sure Feliciano was fucking real at this point would be to find a  _Hollow_. Which obviously wasn't going to happen. He played with the piece of paper in his pocket. Six words, one memory, a possibility, perhaps?  _Maybe_.

* * *

"Lovino," Ludwig said quaintly as Lovino caught him coming out of the store room. The two of them were alone. Lovino couldn't help tapping his foot. He didn't know why his body tensed as if he had suddenly become angry or why his pulse acted like his declaration hadn't already been shared. Maybe not all blonds were made the same. "What's wrong?"

Lovino refused to look up from his feet. He had been standing here for what felt like forever, waiting for the ass to be done putting shit away. He couldn't even keep his forming fist from crumpling the paper he fished from his pocket. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

He handed the fucker the god damn piece of paper.

"He insisted on taking his car—what is this, Lovino?"

"I don't know if Feliciano is real. I'm—" he was a fucking pansy was what he was. He could say it to Arthur like nothing, but what the fuck made this fool any different? "I'm afraid that he's not who he says he is."

He said it to Arthur. He fucking said it to the Brit and could walk away with tantalizing thoughts, but here his whole body reacted. Why? Why was it different with the fucker?

It wasn't. Lovino straightened, biting his tongue and staring into Ludwig's face. It wasn't different. Arthur was real and on their side, he was a beacon of knowledge and on their side. Lovino believed him despite everything.

He trusted Ludwig just as much.

"It could be because he's my Golden Mean, so I want to run a test to make sure that Feliciano is Feliciano. I've—It's very unlikely that Tzeentch would have created Feliciano, I think, so I've chosen a memory to relay to him and I have decided on a detail to change. It's important enough that he should remember."

Ludwig read over the line again. "Are you looking for my help or my validation?"

Lovino sat back for a moment, putting his weight into his heel and just starting forward. What was he looking for? He exhaled with a short laugh, "I think I'm looking for you to talk me out of it," he said honestly. "Be a therapist and tell me that I just have to put blind faith into him."

"I'm not a real therapist, Lovino."

"Well then play one."

Ludwig handed back the paper. "If you want to do it, then do it. From what it sounds like you're checking up on the rest of us with your powers." Lovino nodded. There was a long moment of silence, as if Ludwig wasn't sure if he should say what was on his tongue. Lovino waited for it. Instead the blond just lifted his gaze above and past the brunet. "Do what you think you need to."

* * *

Lovino frowned, shutting his eyes and focusing on the energy levels in the room. The ones he could change, anyway.

"I say you make it pink," Gilbert was saying. Lovino opened his eyes, openly glaring at the albino.

"Maybe if you stopped  _saying_  I would have succeeded already, asshat," he sneered.

Gilbert raised a single brow his way in an unthwarted response.

"Focus," Arthur said again.

"I'm going to try and on only one of you rather than all three," Lovino muttered. For a long moment he sat, focusing on Gilbert and his stupid head and the can he was trying to change the color of. It was strange. Though he could feel that he could manipulate them, it was also a jumbled process. Arthur had said that the visual trigger was supposed to be the easiest, but it felt like when he tried to focus on changing just one thing everything else want to change as well.

"Hey!" Gilbert shouted, "something changed."

"Gilbert," Ludwig drew.

Gilbert chuckled, "okay, yeah, nothing changed. Thought if I gave him a push of encouragement he's get it faster."

Lovino groaned, sitting back with his back pressed against the wall. "My head hurts, I'm going to take a break," he decided, rubbing at his temple. He really needed to get a hang of this.

"Try again," Ludwig demanded.

Lovino looked up. "I said that—"

"Do you want to get it? Because you never will if you sit there with your head in your hands. Stand up and try again."

Gilbert's head was a jumbled mess, but Lovino eventually found his way through it. "Awe, I asked for pink," the albino whine. "Orange is such a dreadful color."

Lovino couldn't help but smile at his stupidity. He tried again with Ludwig, Arthur.

"Brilliant," Arthur said, reaching forward and grabbing the can. Lovino focused carefully, the sting of information turning and dancing as the can was moved and touched. He reached out and tried again with Gilbert and help both perspectives at once. Two stings of information, covered by influence. Three, three effected and held.

He needed to watch the can carefully as it moved to make sure he was following the information right, but for a long minute he was able to hold all of their attention. He dropped it, bringing a hand up to kneed under his eye.

"We'll take a—"

"I want to try another sense."

* * *

Lovino pushed the kid accusation away. "Stop pointing at me, you almost took my eye out."

"And good riddance to it," Feliciano decided matter-of-factly.

Lovino clicked his tongue. "I see being sick makes you aggressive." Lovino had never actually seen the kid sick. As far as he knew the boy never even sneezed. Alas, here he was, sweat sheened and sucking up mucus.

"I'm not aggressive, I just know that if you try to ruin soccer that I'll have to put an end to you."

"All I was saying was that it  _might_  be funny if it was mandatory for goalies to be either a bear or a, I don't know, wolverine."

"Wolverines are, like, a foot tall, Lovino," Feliciano half laughed-half sickly sniffed at him. "It would be ridiculous."

"Hey, you asked what would get me to watch a game with you and I answered. What did you want me to say, hot chicks?"

"I would much rather you offer hot chicks than  _bears or wolverines_."

Lovino chuckled, taking the empty bowl from the kid. "Well, our debate for the day is done. Gotta let you get back to it."

Feliciano let out a whining groan. "I'm bored in here, Lovino."

"You only have to be in here until your fever goes down."

Feliciano nodded. "It has! Feel my head."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "I can feel it from here, you're practically on fire."

"People on fire can't slee—" he sneezed into his arm.

"People that are sleeping can't sneeze. Goodnight, Fell."

Lovino was followed by a mumbled: "buttnugget." He sighed, letting the bowl hang as he walked. It wasn't long before he found himself with running water and, soon, a clean dish. He put it up with the rest of the odd dishes they had been using. He paused at the sink.

He needed to work on his touch sensory detail. It was weak, no one believed the feeling of sand that he attempted to make, or that of ripples on the side of the can. He couldn't even create a sound sensory, but he was able to modify the sound of Gilbert's voice after he had been given the script of what Gilbert was going to say (and ten tries). He didn't know where to start with taste, but they were going to take another stab at it soon, and after he understood that they would try smell.

There was a system, and they were going to follow it. In between that they were working on a plan of what to do about Tzeentch. Try to understand where the Neverborn's steps were because at this point not only was she a step ahead of them, it looked like they had taken a strange path that lead them to desolation. But they weren't going to give up. If worst came to worst than they would side with the Confraternity.

Lovino was confident, or at least comfortable, that with the help of his group that they would be able to stop her. He trusted them because they had all made sacrifices to be here, hadn't they?

Six crumpled words found the trashcan on his way out.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Mistake or character development? Wouldn't you like to know?_

_I know it's been less than 24 hours, but we really don't have the time to wait, and I like sleeping sometimes._

COMMENT! Do you think Anubis is still working with Tzeentch? Comment your thoughts!


	45. Quarante-Cinq

Clouds of dust twisted in their mini-tornados, the wind carrying a shallow, white overcast across the sky above them. Faltered breaths and sharp cries were extended between conversation points, Lovino finding himself playing the defensive more-often-than-not. The kid was quick and relentless at times, and though Lovino appreciated the challenge, it also made him want to chain a rock to boy's fucking feet.

"A coup d'état?" Feliciano asked, his foot flying towards Lovino's face.

Lovino caught the attack, twisted it and, in retrospect, the boy away. Feliciano seemed to expect this as, before Lovino was even done with his block, he slammed his heel down and pivoted his other foot into Lovino's stomach. Lovino grabbed the attack and hugged it tightly, backing up with a quick shuffled step to break the kid's balance and send him onto his back.

"That's Gilbert's theory," Lovino grunted, offering his hand.

Feliciano hummed a pensive sound back to him, taking the offered help. His face was flushed, but the feverish sweats and snot had cleared. Auburn hair was a mess, cluttered with gravel and dust, but the only mind he gave it was to brush it out of his face. "It's scary that she can pretend to be anyone," he said with a light, nervous chuckle. "It sounds a bit out there though. I mean—well, I don't know. I guess I'm just used to small cases, this—this is a whole new level."

Lovino took the first shot, a hook headed for the kid's jaw, but Feliciano ducked and responded with a jab just under the collarbone. Feliciano took back before Lovino could grab at him, arms braced over his chest and awaiting Lovino's next move with light bouncing steps.

"Yeah, I get what you mean. It's kinda ridiculous that we're here—" Lovino grunted, flashing forward to throw a punch. The kid threw his own cross attack, fingers pointed, on a diagonal path towards Lovino's eye. Quickly changing plans Lovino wrapped his arm around Feliciano's, grabbing the boy's shoulder and forcing his weight into a sharp move and knocking Feliciano's balance off to send the kid flipping into the ground.

Feliciano gasped upon impact but didn't give Lovino any time to recuperate before he was flying off his knees and sweeping Lovino off his sweet and onto the ground. "Arthur's been helping around a lot," he said, turning and pinning Lovino, his knee digging between Lovino's shoulder blades.

"Yeah," Lovino pushed his chest off the ground, knocking the boy's balance off long enough to twist out from under the hold. Automatically he lunged, locking his arm around the kid's neck.

"Have they," Feliciano threw his head back, hitting Lovino in the face to get out of the hold, "secured a new base yet?"

"Yeah, we're leaving soon," Lovino lamented, sitting back on his heels and checking to make sure his nose wasn't bleeding with the heel of his hand. He almost didn't catch the turn-around punch Feliciano shot at him. Catching it he pushed the kid's fist back into his own throat, pushing him to the ground

Feliciano was quick to wrap his legs around the other's waist and slice him in the throat with his free hand before grabbing the side of Lovino's head and using it to roll them over, ending with Feliciano with two free hands on top. "I'm excited to meet your mom," he said with a panted chuckle.

Lovino sat and quickly took advantage of Feliciano's legs being on either side of him, half-jumping half-rolling to a standing position as he grabbed the boy's wrist and twirled him around, pinning the kid's hand between his shoulder blades and hooking his other arm around his throat. "Of course, you are," he groaned with a light roll of his eyes. He dodged a second headbutt. "We've decided not to take her to the farm when we go."

Feliciano dug his free elbow into Lovino's rib but Lovino held his choke tighter. "Who's going to stay with her?" he practically gasped. Lovino let up his hold.

"We're going to kidnap my dad too." His head was ripped to the side, Feliciano having a vise grip on a fist full of his hair. Feliciano ducked out of the choke hold and Lovino chuckled, letting go of the kid's wrist and dropping his arm.

Feliciano stepped away. "That's an interesting idea."

"We can't exactly leave any forces behind," Lovino said, "just in case we do find King and Queen fucktard."

Feliciano giggled, turning around with a sharp kick that Lovino wasn't fast enough to block and sending the older of the two to stumble sideways. He was fast, arms by his ears as a quick series of jabs that Lovino could only stumble-block set Lovino to trip backwards. He was caught by a wall, fingers sliding down rough concrete as he squatted down, bounding up to the side of the kid and stomping down on the back of Feliciano's knee. The kid threw his arms out to catch himself against the wall, turning only to be met with an arm to his throat. Lovino pinned him and he just panted with a smile. "I really hope we don't."

He pinched Lovino's side, hard, causing the older brunet to twist slightly. Lovino put more weight into the pin, lowering his arm to be across the kid's shoulders and grabbing the other's wrist once more. "We need to find a starting point, figure out what happening."

"I know, but it's kinda scary think—" he brought his knee up, "—ing about it." He shrugged out of Lovino's hold, pushing him away with both hands and sending a hook to catch him in the throat. Lovino blocked it, recovering with stuttered steps. "It's silly to think that we stand a chance."

Boxing steps and dodges and cuffs followed them back into the street, Lovino on the defensive again. "At least we have Arthur going with us," Lovino muttered.

Feliciano stepped back, breathing labored and dropping his arms to rest on his legs as he squatted into recovery. "Nebraska, huh." It wasn't a question. "He's been sending hints since day one."

"He's a fucking psychopath," Lovino decided, lacing his hands behind his head to open his airway, swallowing past the dryness in his throat caused by the environment. "Let's get back. Gilbert will kill me if I don't help pack."

"Alright. Too bad that you lost another fight, though."

Lovino rolled his eyes, sending Feliciano an ugly smile. "Har-har, I haven't lost any of them."

And then he was blocking another attack. He grunted, coiling backwards and lunging. Within moments the kid was pinned and he was rolling his eyes, holding the kid's shoulders down. "Ta-da," he mocked.

Feliciano wriggled for a moment before calming and sending Lovino a smile, coyly reaching a hand up and pressing on Lovino's neck, pulling him into a soft kiss.

Within moments the tables were turned and Lovino was pinned.

Lovino glared upwards. "Dirty cheat."

Feliciano smiled innocently at him, but honey eyes gleamed with bright humor. "It's not cheating," he cooed. "In a fight you have to use your resources."

Lovino pushed up on his forearms, meeting the kid half-way for the next attack, a smirk pressed teasingly against the boy's bubbling laughter. "I'll be sure to remember this move when I see Antonio, then."

Feliciano pulled back with a scrunched-up pout but Lovino just laughed, sitting fully and pulling him back in for another kiss, pressing against the younger man's back. Feliciano tipped onto his knees after a long moment of forgiving, an opportunity for pressing hands to find tentative hips, chin tipped to meet the giggles and coy touches.

Everything about this was maddening. Feliciano's touches were so gentle, so evasive, so planned. Lovino couldn't take it as whispered laughter traveled along his jaw, his neck; funny hands traveling down his arms and slipping around like a careful hug.

Feliciano let out a surprised laugh as Lovino hugged him closely, rolling onto his own knees as the boy's legs automatically wrapped around his waist defensively. He didn't stop laughing as Lovino took charge, hungry kisses, fingers tangling in auburn hair while also offering a comfort between skull and cracked road. Feliciano dropped his legs and his hands were at it again. So gentle, calm, only the slightest tremble in his fingers giving anything away.

Lovino stole those fingers into his hands, moving them, leading them into a new pin above Feliciano's head. Feliciano gasped out, his breath trailing across Lovino's ear as his hips' hesitance was rendered in the past and fingernails dug.

Lovino swallowed. His body ached from the punches and the kicks, but the hitching of a single breath caused everything to tremble, agonizing and suffocating.

There was a usual way to go about these things; a dance, fumble, nails and walls and clashing teeth. Gasping breaths and trembling fingers and rocking hips.

Feliciano's breaths were strained. Lovino looked up, his smirk falling when he saw the way the kid was squirming, upsetting his lip with closed eyes. Tears collected and pooled. It was then that Lovino looked at their interlaced hands.

"Fuck," he growled, quickly pulling away and sitting on his heels.

Feliciano's eyes were dark, his voice swallowed as he spoke. "What's the—the matter?"

"You're not wearing you're fucking gloves," Lovino snapped, though his frustration was self-made.

Feliciano shifted to a sitting position, blinking down at his palms. Nevertheless, a small bubble had started its formation at the base of his wrist. Lovino sighed, quietly hating himself. "I don't get it," Feliciano muttered.

"Lust is a power of life," Lovino groaned back.

"Oh," and then Lovino was being pulled into another kiss. Lovino pushed him away at the shoulders. His eyes were still too dark, his movements had become sloppy. His eyebrows furrowed, a visible whine set. What award did he get for this one?

He hung his head. "Consent is with a yes, not with a look," he prayed under his breath. "Sober yes, sober yes, sober—"

"Lovino, it's—" the kid was saying, traveling fingers.

Lovino fixed the kid with a stern look. "No. I'm not burning your fucking heart out." He huffed conclusively, standing. "Gil's waiting for us. Let's go."

* * *

Lovino couldn't help but stare. It was the first time he had travelled to their new  _base_. He hadn't put too many expectations to it. The worlds that he had traveled through up until now seemed random and strange and, well, he wasn't going to put his energy into imagining irrelevant details of what would become an irrelevant detail in twenty years. (Feliciano insisted that he had at least that long, though he silently mocked the kid's optimism while verbal assaults teased him for being a pessimist.)

Before Lovino was a harsh contrast of color and season. Blues and whites peeked into a navy sky while, climbing up their side, was the warmth of spring in a blanket of dotted yellows and rolling green. They met in a clash of a sickly, frozen over brown and orange for the most part, but there was a section that was cut off by a steep dip in the earth. Lovino, Gilbert, and Feliciano were picking across this dip, a laid ladder of mixed metals their bridge.

Looking down Lovino found why they had come here. The dip careened onto something of a cavern below their feet and Lovino could see, as if carved into the base of the blue mountain and reinforced by steal, was a structure of some sort. At then end of the bridge, on the side of the mountain, was a mechanical lift that waited to take them down.

"What cheesy over-the-top title does this place have?" Lovino asked, his breathing and words under the inconvenient restraints caused by the heavy sack on his bag.

"Home, for now," Gilbert mused at him, though after a cheesy over-the-top pause, he continued. "It used to be a mining shaft but was repurposed for a hand-off storing center when the wildlife scared away the miners. No one has been here for ages as all that is stored is outdated technology." A smirk. "I think I'm going to make it my job to date it."

"The wildlife scared away the miners?" Feliciano asked with a light giggle. "What type of wildlife could do that?" Lovino could see the small  _please be a bear, bears are scary, yeah?_ In the kids features.

Gilbert chuckled. "Just don't go too far down in the mine and you shouldn't have to find out."

"Is there running water down here?" Feliciano muttered as they reached the end of the bridge. Gilbert put down his stuff, pulling out a beat-up lock pick kit from his pocket and working on the control panel's seal. "There's some plumbing, yeah, but we're going to have to check the well before we use any of it. Contamination and all that fun stuff." A sharp click sounded and Gilbert was able to lift the top of the panel. With a single press of a button they were heading down.

"How many floors is this mad of?" Lovino said as he watched long stretches of halls disappear as the continued away.

"Fifty-some, I believe."

"Why are we going so far down?" They had to be at least six or seven floors down by now, each hallway more-or-less the same as far as Lovino could tell through the growing darkness.

"There's a tunnel down here that leads future inland. We're taking all the safety precautions not to be seen. Also," pale illuminated in the dark, teeth joining between smirking burgundy, "if anyone tries to trap us down here there's an explosive backup plan set in place."

Lovino nodded. "That settles it. I'm going to die in a mine. There are a lot of ways I considered myself dying but being blown up by a psychopath in a mine hadn't made it on the list."

"You should really be more open minded," Gilbert laughed. "And do refrain from believing that inside the mine is the only place rigged."

"You really have this all set up, don't you?" Feliciano's tone was too admiring for Lovino's taste.

"We've learned the lesson that the Renegade didn't have a chance to." He shrugged. "No use making the same mistake twice. Why else do you think we've stayed to watch over you, Lovino? Great goals, really, but left to your own devices you would end up failing as badly as your predecessor did. And, sure, we're not housing a city here, but one day—" he cut himself off with a smirk, "well, let's save one days for after this shitstorm has quieted down."

The lift stopped with a lurch that caused Lovino to stutter a bit. Unlike the other hallways, there were three paths rather than two, one, as Gilbert was saying, going deep underground rather than along the lip of the cavern. Gilbert pulled out a headlight for the each of them and soon the darkness was warm and amber. Sharp silver teeth stuck out from the ceiling and floor, an uneasy path to be picked along. Natural ores shimmered under the light, but they were an oddly hue that made them feel alien to Lovino.

They picked around the first set of obstacles. "Why—"

Gilbert hissed lowly, motioning them to keep quiet as they walked. Immediately Lovino imagined a group of devilish wildlife. Bats crossed with fly traps and machine guns, probably.

Soon, nonetheless, the path cleared into a smooth looking hall, similar to the ones that stretched. "The mouth of this tunnel is collapsing. The smallest vibration might cause it to close. The reinforcements along here are stronger, though, and we should be coming up on an open shaft here soon. Stay on your toes."

They walked for a while longer down what felt to be a tunnel that was getting smaller, though that could have simply been caused by the feeling of claustrophobia caused by the heavy bag and dusted corridor and bouncing lights, before breaking out into what Gilbert had deemed an open shaft.

Feliciano gawked upwards. "It's like a whole other set of floors," he muttered. A large structure climbed the walls like a tower the body of a magma-less volcano, only there was no peek to allow the sun in or out. Dubious sets of ladders stretched both up and down, and the lip of the tower gave away to a serious of bridges that stretched along the drop and secured themselves in the wall across from them.

"It looks like they were digging more tunnels," Lovino observed, flashing his light down one of the bridges.

"They were looking to expand deeper into the mountain," Gilbert agreed.

"What were they mining?" Feliciano was taking great interest in the shimmering walls now. "It seems that there is still a lot of material left behind."

"They weren't mining for the metals, but a liquid. It's call it Contium Lerxis and is used as a power source, kinda like fossil fuels on Earth but a lot more dangerous to handle. If you see any orange and green goo dripping from the walls don't touch it. A single drop can eat through skin like Pepsi to battery acid."

"You've brought us to a radioactive mine!"

"Don't touch it and you'll be  _fine_. Now, let's start setting up camp," Gilbert grunted, his hand finding a large switch that he put his whole weight into to move. A loud bang was followed by a whirring generator and soon their lights were washed out in a see of green.

Lovino blinked. "Green lights?" The bulbs were pinpointed around the skeleton of the structure, lightbulbs built into the metal while thin, spiderweb wires circled around beams before dipping and disappearing, making it possible for maintenance without much take-apart necessary.

"Don't want to disturb the wildlife," Gilbert sang, turning off his light with a chuckle. "From here on out I suggest you get used to it."

Feliciano put down his bag and reached up, turning off his own light. "Sounds dangerous," he muttered under his breath.

"Where do you want us to unpack?" Lovino asked. The level that they were on currently seemed to stretch passed the eye's comprehension, but Lovino could see, or perhaps could trick himself into seeing, a darkness in the distance that seemed to be the end-point.

Gilbert pointed downwards. "A few more levels down until we reach the rail system and we'll follow that to a breakroom. It's been wiped out of most supplies, but it'll be a good base."

So, Feliciano picked up his stuff and the three of them were off once more. Lovino grunted as he jumped down from his third ladder, catching his balance. "This way," Gilbert commanded, leading the way down the long stretch of structure. He slammed his shoulder into what looked like a door to a maintenance room and they were introduced to another stretching corridor, this once, as Gilbert had suggested, laid with mining rails.

Feliciano's breathing was panted as they walked and Lovino understand perfectly. It was hard to breath, the air was beyond warm, and the dust wasn't helping anyone or anything. Gilbert led them off of the path once more.

The breakroom was lined with what looked to be lockers. It was a large area, easily a comfortable fit for a handful of men, with a large gym room-like bench stretching out in the middle of the room. "Restrooms are through that hall," Gilbert shared, pointing to a door at the back of the room, "but there's disposable restrooms all throughout the mine. Can't promise sanitation in those ones, though."

Lovino set down his supplies with a heavy sigh. The green lights followed them in, prickling along the corners of the rocky, unbalanced ceiling in long rectangles. He put a hand over his head.

He felt trapped here.

"Where do you want these?" Feliciano's voice was cheery as he spoke. Lovino glanced a look at him. The kid was digging out some the research notes he had acquired.

"We can probably keep them in the lockers for now so it doesn't get crowded when the rest of the team shows up. Oh, speaking of," Gilbert threw off his own bag, shuffling through wires and junk until he found what he was looking for. "This is the best I could come up with for now," he threw both of them a hastily thrown together box with a wire sticking out. Lovino examined it. The box was made of some sort of plastic and seemed to have been melted together. It was a little smaller than the palm of his hand with a clip attacked. The wire was set up with an earpiece. "It's impossible to establish a wireless connection between worlds, but for now I want everyone to wear a radio. As long as their tuned correctly you'll be able to communicate with those around you."

"So, they'll work here and on the String?"

"And everywhere else. Especially in a place like this where a piece of the shaft or the tunnels could collapse at anytime it's important to have some way of communicating."

Lovino nodded, hooking the box to his pants and running the earpiece through his shirt and out his collar. A small knot in the string sat right at his chin and he recognized it as the mic. He turned it on, hissing at the initial screech that was let off before the sound died down to static.

Gilbert gave them the directions to tune it, tuning his own as he spoke, and soon the earpiece fell silent.

Gilbert pressed on his ear and Lovino knew he was pressing on the small button that was on the back of his earpiece. "You have to turn it on manually to speak," he said, his voice ringing through Lovino's ear as he did so. He let off the button. "Keep them on at all times. If there's trouble it could be the difference between you getting out of here alive or getting blown up." He clapped his hands together with a grin. "Now, let's unpack and go back up. Lud and Art should be making their arrival soon enough. Oh—and here."

Once again he was shuffling through his bag before handing each of them a small booklet. Each booklet came with a different cover and was sloppily sewed together with what looked to be medical supplies. Lovino blinked at the information.

"Coordinates for the watches?" Feliciano asked.

"Yeah, there's a good chance we're going to be split up again, so be sure to keep this on you. Those are all the ones that Lud and I could remember. Highlighted ones are safe-zones, underlined are the ones Art has warned us to stay away from."

Lovino shook his head in disbelief. "Twilight Highlands, Fallen Atlantis, fucking White Wash Way—who the fuck do you have coming up with the names of these places?"

"I couldn't remember the actual name to a lot of them, so I made do," Gilbert laughed. "I would love to take you to the PMS-ing Bitch Land sometime. Named it after you,  _my love_."

Lovino sent him a glare; he just grinned back.

* * *

Gilbert frowned down, over the side of the bridge. They were surface-level again, waiting for Ludwig and Arthur to arrive.

"What's taking them so long?" Lovino muttered.

Feliciano was rubbing at his arm absentmindedly. Compared to the breakroom it was freezing on the surface. "I hope they're not in trouble."

"Oh, I doubt it," Gilbert blew. "They'll be here soon."

"What did they even leave to get?" Lovino asked.

"I like to call it  _The Game Changer_."

Lovino really didn't like the look in the albino's eyes when he said that. He was too happy, too excited.

"Is it what you've been working on?" Feliciano asked. "What you needed all that stuff for?"

"Yup. It's my pride and joy."

Before Lovino could press any questions, a bright light brought them two familiar figures. Each had a bag on their back, but Ludwig carried a large box in his arms and a stern expression on his face. The both of them looked a little beat up and Arthur walked forward with something of a limp.

"Were you two followed?" Gilbert demanded.

"Ambushed, not followed," Ludwig said calmly.

"Don't worry, we took care of all of them," Arthur said. "Your guys' radar certainly helped."

Gilbert's  _radar_ referred to a new piece of equipment that rendered Arthur's clock useless but also allowed them to see other clocks' activity in their area. Well, other clocks other than their own. Lovino really didn't understand it all, nor did he care to. He had his own abilities to focus on defining.

Gilbert nodded. "Good. Now," all worry washed away, a grain of sand in an ocean of crazy. "Did you bring it?"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_I got, like, 3k words into this chapter and decided I didn't like it so we started over. Aha, whoops._

SHOUT-OUT TIME

_I have THREE shout-outs for this chapter, so please bear with me for just a hot minute._

_FIRST: a shout-out to my spoopy pal. She's so sweet and smart, and I think it's in all of our better interest to get on her side now before she domina—ahem, I mean opens a pizza shop. You know, would hate to find myself in a spaghetti noose when it all goes down. She is currently writing a Historical Hetalia fic based around our boi Spain and his struggles during the Spanish Civil War, and honestly I love it. It isn't a pretentious work, really easy to shift through, and also my boi France is a fucking icon. So, shout-out to_ **Helianskies _on AO3_  ** _and her work_ All Around the Compass Point.

 _SECOND: a shout-out to the one and only Allie Jen for writing a beautiful Itacest piece. It's called_ Reflections on Darkness  _and her username is_ **SummerDawn23 _on FFNET_**.  _It's for Albear here that there may be a few zesty drabbles like in the first scene of this chapter. So, thank her for the awkwardness._

 _FINALLY: a shout-out to someone who has already gotten a couple shout-outs, but how could I not advertise a Lovino POV story so beautifully written? So, shout-out to_ **Syntax-N _on FFNET_** _and the beauty that is_ Grape Leaves.  _Our boi is a star._

COMMENT! What do you think Gilbert created? I'll give you a hint: he keeps an open mind when it comes to innovation. (He's also not one to give up on a prototype)


	46. Quarante-Six

Feliciano was quick to approached Ludwig, peering into his box. "Yeah, we have it," Ludwig was saying, giving the kid a curious glance. Feliciano looked up at him before picking through the box.

"This is all food, Luddy," he practically whined.

"It is."

Feliciano frowned back at Lovino. "We're gonna pummel them into submission with—peaches, we have a lot of peaches."

"Ambition plan there, bastard," Lovino said to Gilbert. "Glad you're on our side and not theirs."

Arthur cleared his throat seriously, having not recognized the sarcasm, and pulled a device from the pocket of his coat. "I will assume you are going on about this?"

Feliciano was bouncing over to Arthur and examining the small device with a hum. "No, too puny."

"Hey, we don't judge by size here," Gilbert defended. Feliciano shot Lovino a quizzical look and Lovino just shrugged. "Toss it here—"

"Gilbert, please, don't go throwing this around like a toy," Ludwig groaned.

Lovino caught the breath of mockery as Gilbert passed him, joining Feliciano in front of Gilbert and grabbing his device with a certain childish flourish that he did most things with.

"What does it do?" Feliciano asked.

"Lovino, do I have your permission to test it out?"

His smile was too innocent. "Depends on how badly I get hurt."

The albino smirked. "I'll keep it on low."

"Wait, wait, whoa, wait," Feliciano interjected. "Why is Lovino going to be hurt? Gilbert, I thought that this was supposed to  _help_ us. Not hurt us."

"When you told me about what Antonio had done with my Time Machine plans, turning it into a weapon rather than a tool of travel, it got me thinking. Because Lovino is partially god he was affected greatly when the String fell apart while he was on it. I got to thinking about what if there was a weapon that could do something similar, but without the god—or demi-god—being on the String. They way that they perceive and are effected by surrounding energies are what make them different then us, so, why can't we use that difference to our advantage?"

"But Tzeentch wasn't affected by Antonio's weapon, how do you know it will work on her?" Feliciano practically begged.

"I've enchanted it with the same spell that's used on the whistle I gave you," Arthur said.

Lovino sent Gilbert a cheeky smirk. "So, it's magic that's going to change the game?"

Gilbert glared at him. "My technology is what will change the game." Arthur opened his mouth, but Gilbert cut him off without even a recognized dismissal. "I used my resources. All great inventors know to do that."

Lovino shrugged smugly. "I dunno, sounds like Arthur is the hero in this story."

"Lovino, shut up, do you  _want_  to get hurt," Feliciano reprimanded.

"It fits the pattern," Ludwig muttered, starting his way towards the bridge. "Let's unpack and get to the String. We've spent too much time contemporizing."

* * *

"So, everyone knows the plan?" Ludwig was saying again.

"Yeah!" Feliciano chirped.

Lovino shot him a look. "Feliciano, please try to dial down the excitement as we kidnap my parents."

"I still don't see why we're taking them both," Arthur was murmuring. They were getting ready to travel to the Land Without Time and Arthur's mood, though never joyous, was dismal in the preparation. Lovino half-suspected that it had to do with Arthur being forced to change out of his ridiculous outfit and into something boarding on normal. "It'll be a nuisance housing another person. We'll have to make more food runs, the wardrobe will be gone through quicker, there will be a higher chance of discovery—"

"We've agreed on a buddy system," Feliciano decided.

"And we don't have enough people to dedicate a guard for her. So, we're doing the next-best-thing," Ludwig agreed.

Arthur just grumbled.

"Alright, everyone ready?" Gilbert asked, holding up his wrist. "Art, you have the radar?" Arthur offered the small screen (that was obviously refurbished from some sort of scientific tool and therefore grainy and thick) with a nod. "Good, keep an eye on that and let's go."

Lovino found himself a bit nervous. It felt like a million years since he had spoken to his mother, much less seen her. Even he had to admit that this was intrusive.

The light of the watch came and went with a dusted shuffle of ash beneath their feet. Arthur's nose was shoved into the radar as Ludwig flawlessly used the clock and the three of them were transported once more before the Arthur could even give the call.

Lovino drew a deep breath. He was standing on familiar territory, now. A slanted yard led up to the door of his childhood home. Cement stairs and a brown-bordering-burgundy roof. Feliciano smiled at him, a small bounce in the way he stood.

Step one: make sure they're real.

He walked past his mother's car as he made it to the door, instantly noting that his father's car was missing. He knocked.

There was a loud bark and a muffled: "Be right there! Rosco, down—no, go lay down," before the dull rattles of a lock and an opening. He ticked a smile at the familiar sight of his mother through the storm door. She was bent over, holding a golden retriever by his collar. "Lovino!" she gushed, pushing open the door.

"Hey, Mom," he said back as he was pulled in so the dog wouldn't get out. His mother turned to go deeper into the house, but she paused herself.

Her eyes traveled and Lovino for the first time was aware of the white-washed scars around bare arms and neck. "Lovino," her voice trailed as she reached out, first with comfort and concern, and then with a stern edge as brown eyes hardened into a glare. "Lovino Alexander, what have you been getting yourself into now?" she demanded. "I get a throw-away call because you're stressed about your job, and you show up a couple weeks later looking like this? What exactly was you  _job_  again, young man."

"Mom, I—"

"You promised me that you would never get into drug," an accusonary finger was forced into his face, "and that means dealing them. What the hell even—" his shirt was pulled up and a mother's concern flashed into anger. "How do you manage  _this_!"

"Listen, Mom," Lovino tried again.

"Don't you  _listen, Mom,_ me. I knew that there was a streak in your teenage years where you let girls do whatever they wanted to you, but you promised to stop after—"

Lovino quickly shuffled back and pushed the storm door open. "She's real, you guys!" he called, not realizing that he would need backup for this one. He turned back to his mother. Had he been oblivious as a kid, or had the fires of hell always burned in her eyes. "Hurry!" he called quickly.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You brought others?"

" _Listen,_ I'm sorry I didn't call, it's just that—" he almost sighed in relief, keeping the dog back with his foot as he let Feliciano open the door, "—we really need you to hear us out."

* * *

Lovino's mother breathed through steeple fingers, her eyes downcast to the side as she thought. After a long moment, she spoke. "You guys sound crazy," she decided.

Gilbert chuckled. Rosco had taken a liking to him and wouldn't let up no matter how many times he was told to get down. Gilbert brushed him down again with a scratch between the retriever's ears. "We know, but unfortunately that's the price we have to pay."

She sighed, sitting back on the couch and doing the group of them a twentieth go-over. "I don't—I don't know what to say. I—" she shook her head lightly. "Lovino, your father won't be home until late tonight. He flew out for work and won't be getting back until tonight."

"Mrs. Gaspari," Feliciano broke in with a respectful smile, "I hate to intrude, but do you happen to have a computer or phone that I can borrow?"

"Oh, yes, of course." She stood. Feliciano followed behind her, pulling out a small journal from his back pocket. Lovino recognized it and couldn't help but chuckle. The kid's "Google" journal. The two disappeared and Gilbert, Ludwig, and Arthur were left with him.

"We could move forward a couple of hours," Ludwig offered. "I don't think that waiting here is a good plan."

"Take her to the base and come back at a time that he would be returning," Arthur agreed. "As long as Lovino is here I'm sure he'd follow along."

"It'd be safer to move her through time with us rather than leaving her at the mines by herself," Gilbert decided.

Lovino shook his head. "We should be using the time to gather supplies. I know that the longer we're here the more danger we put us and my mother in, but at the same time we're going to be housing seven people for an undetermined amount of time. I think it's riskier to count on pillaging Confraternity camps than just running to Walmart real quick."

Gilbert nodded. "True."

"We're going to have to keep an eye out," Ludwig warned.

"We're not splitting up and Arthur has his radar and I have my—" Lovino bounded a finger off his temple with a tight hum. "We'll know when something's coming and we can dip at any time. Anyway, we have our radios."

"We don't have clocks for everyone, so a radio is rendered useless in an attack."

"Not useless, Lud, just not as effective as sticking together," Gilbert decided.

Lovino's mother walked back into the room. Lovino imagined that she had set Feliciano up at the table with her laptop. "Mom, can I ask a favor?"

* * *

"I was never a soccer mom, so I don't have room for everyone," she said, almost eying Lovino.

Lovino almost groaned. "So, looks like we are going to be splitting up."

"We only have one radar," Arthur pointed out helpfully. "Do we keep it at the house or take it?"

Gilbert sighed. "Lovino and Mrs. Gaspari are the two that we're looking to keep out of Tzeentch's hands, so where ever they go the radar goes."

"It would be safer to protect them from here than running around," Ludwig agreed. "Mrs. Gaspari, are you comfortable allowing us to use your car?"

"Yes, of course. And, here," she moved to dig through her purse, pushing her wallet and keys into Ludwig's hands. "There should be enough cash," she continued to pull out her phone, quickly securing her GPS app. "Just follow this." The lot of them looked mighty uncomfortable. Lovino couldn't help but feel it himself, just above his stomach. His mother offered a small nod. "Get going, then."

Ludwig nodded. "Thank you, ma'am."

She shook her head. "No, thank you." She smiled smally. "Thank you for protecting my son. I know he can be a handful."

Gilbert sniggered and Lovino shot him something of a defensive glare before letting it fall with a short sigh. Arthur handed him the radar and soon the three of them left.

Lovino frowned after the door. "I promise I'll pay you back," he said quietly. There was a long moment of quiet between them. It was over when Lovino suddenly found himself assaulted in the back of the head by a slipper. He cried out, covering the affronted area. "What was that for?"

"For being an idiot." She turned and made her way into the kitchen.

Set up in this situation, Lovino was really starting to understand his origins. He followed after her, finding Feliciano exactly where he had imagined him to be. He sat down across from the kid at the round table, laying his head on his arms. The light sounds of tapping and muttered reading and the scratch of a pen and the running of water as Lovino's mother prepared a pot of coffee all mixed together above his head. He was tapped after a while and handed a mug.

"Thanks, Mom," he muttered with a tick of a smile.

She handed Feliciano a cup, as well, and he send a warm smile up to her with a nod of his head. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Please, call me June," she offered diligently. "Lovino, you never properly introduced me to anyone."

Lovino scraped tried fingers across his eyes. He hadn't, had he? Jump into time travel and serial killers, skip the casualties.

Feliciano put out his hand. "Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Feliciano! I used to work with Lovino—"

"At the gas station, yes, he's mentioned you before."

Lovino rested his chin on his palm, recognizing that Feliciano's socially warm smile seemed to turn cheeky somehow, a quick honey glance almost laughing at him. Lovino rolled his eyes, moving his attention to his coffee with no real venom. If Feliciano said anything about it Lovino would just press that Feliciano's father had known exactly who  _Lovino_  was when he had called.

Feliciano dipped his chin into a nod. "Yup."

"Well, it's nice to know that my son can make and keep a friend."

Lovino groaned. "Mom, please," he muttered.

"Well, a friend that won't get him arrested."

"One time, Mom."

"Arrested?" Feliciano asked, blinking over at him.

"Detained. I didn't go to jail or anything." He sighed. "It was sophomore year, me and a friend decided to break into the public pool in the middle of the night and got detained because we ran from the cops when they showed up."

Feliciano giggled, quirking a brow. "That's the lamest arrest story I've ever heard."

Lovino threw an ugly face at him. "I'll make sure to murder someone next time."

Feliciano's chuckles died with a soft sigh. "Please don't." He cast his gaze back to his notebook and the laptop. "Have you guys ever considered putting a pause on all the book references," Feliciano laminated.

Lovino sat back in his chair and hooked his hands behind his head. "We discussed it," he lied, "but seeing you just blank out and shut up is worth too much." A sharp pain shot across his shin and Lovino hissed, sitting up. Feliciano just sent him a smirk over the laptop. "Abusive ass."

* * *

"Where the hell under—gotcha," Lovino grabbed the box of tampons and stuffed them into his bag, quickly following them up with other toiletries. Throwing the bag over his shoulder he made his way back down the stairs and to the kitchen. Feliciano had closed the laptop and was helping ransack the kitchen for useful items.

"Yes," his mother way saying, her back turned into the cupboard that used to be full of ramen when Lovino was a kid but now seemed to have taken on other pastas and rice. "My husband works as a steward for Southwest airlines. Ever since he's gotten his promotion they've been sending him off to train in other states, so he hasn't been home as often." She tied the grocery bag she had been filling and turned, placing it on the table. "But, the firm I work under has been going under new management changes so I haven't had much time to notice."

Lovino put his bag down just as the front door open. "No one's dead, right?" Gilbert called, pushing the door with his hip as he came in, hands full and being followed closely by the other two. Lovino moved to meet them, but a hand caught him gently by the shoulder.

He blinked, sending Feliciano a questioning look. Feliciano's eyes danced behind him. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Hey, Mom, we're going to step out for a minute." The two stepped out the back. Lovino closed the door. "What's up?"

Feliciano was flipping through his journal casually, a frown apparent on his face. "I—Do you know about the accusations revolving Khaline Balfe?"

Lovino shook his head, "who?"

Feliciano looked down at his notes. "Well, I guess there was a big case in 2019 revolving around a medical engineer working for the states. He was accused and sentenced for creating a biological weapon and sending out samples to foreign forces fighting in Israel."

"Okay," Lovino leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest, "and this is relevant how?"

Feliciano was growing more uncomfortable as they spoke, and Lovino found himself looking at a boy looking at his journal rather than anywhere else. "Gilbert made a throw-away joke about it, but I didn't get it because I didn't know the case. And, alone it's not relevant, but—" he shook his head, "that device that Gilbert showed up, it's not the only thing him and Ludwig have been developing. I think—" he finally looked up, but he cut himself off, leaving his thoughts silent.

"You think that Gilbert and Ludwig are developing a bioweapon?"

Silence. Lovino nodded his sight down to his feet. The calm in his body told him that it wasn't surprising, that he wouldn't put it past them, but his head, logic or sympathy, he wasn't sure, was hoping that it wasn't true.

* * *

"How much Spam did you guys get?" Lovino asked, looking into one of the half-packed bags with furrowed brows.

"Bought them out, that stuff's great," Gilbert assured.

It wasn't long before they had managed to fit everything into a handful of bags. The sound of a car climbing the driveway and the peeking of the dog's ears gave announcement to the last traveler's arrival.

"Finally, old man," Lovino announced when the door opened. The man trailed a small suitcase behind him and a tired expression only emphasized by the slight crease in his uniform.

"Lovino—" he looked around, pulling his suitcase up-and-in and closing the door. "What's going on? Who are you all? June?"

"We'll explain later, grab a bag," Gilbert said, filling up an arm and pulling out his clock. "Lud?"

Ludwig nodded, his watch ready for a smooth transition.

"Art?"

The Brit nodded, his radar in hand.

Within moments they were surrounded by fallen forest, and moments after that the bridge before the mines.

"What the hell is going on here?" Lovino's father demanded.

"Let's walk and talk," Lovino sighed, starting his way towards the lift.

* * *

"This is all ludicrous, Lovino," his father said in a stern voice. His gaze was scrutinizing as it shot from face in the green light.

"You're telling me," he blew, scrubbing a hand down his face.

"I don't understand what you think you'll accomplish by facing this Antonio and—"

"Tzeentch." Lovino sighed. "We don't exactly know what they're planning, but we know that it's not good. We can't sit around and wait for them to do something. We're hoping to stop them before they can attack."

"Sounds like you're walking into their trap to me," his father scorned. "If you're actually worried that you or your mother might be targeted, then why not stay out of the way?"

Lovino tightened his jaw. "I fucking caused this. It was my insolence that let Antonio get away, my inabilities that let her out, and my fucking ideocracy that fell into her hands in the first place and absorbed the Neverborns. If it comes down to it I'll fucking kill myself, but I'm going to thwart those assholes best I can up until that point." He chuckled lowly. "Gilbert never lets plans go without securities put into place."

With heavy fingers he fished out a small rubber capsule. Within the rubber was the actual capsule, a bite away. He could feel Feliciano next to him, his eyes on the ground rather than the pill that Lovino had already discussed with him.

"This is your security, not mine," Gilbert dismissed.

Lovino returned to cyanide pill in his pocket. "Don't worry about us, just keep Mom safe." He looked over to Ludwig and Gilbert. "Are we ready?"

Quaint nods and turning heels towards the door. "Wait," Lovino's father called. "You can't just expect us to sit down here and wait for the news that you killed yourself."

Lovino didn't look back as he threw up a dismissive hand. "Packed a couple books. Try 'em out for once, old man."

* * *

His heart palpitated, his gut twisted. The grain, the farmhouse, though now lightened by day rather than an ominous porch light, a distant bark. A gentle hand was place over his shaking fist. Lovino found a small amount of comfort in honey eyes, but it wasn't enough to put aside the sickening feeling in his gut. The feeling that could have sent his stomach up and to the ground.

They stood on a rough country road, spectators onto the innocent-enough farm basking under a late August sun.

"This is it," Lovino said, rolling rubber around his tongue as he spoke. "This is where Antonio killed Gabriel Rodriguez." He closed his eyes, willing the spirit, the ghost, the vision brought on by insanity—he couldn't be sure—to join him. To bring something of value forward. He opened his fist and interlaced his and Feliciano's fingers. Gloved palms pressed, comforting fingers squeezed. He took a long breath. "When all this is over I want to find the body."

"Sounds good," Gilbert said, the first step falling forward towards the farm. "Let's get this over with before we get sentimental about it, though."

Lovino nodded his agreement, letting Feliciano go as he started after him. Arthur watched the radar, but Lovino could see his emerald eyes focus on practically everything as they watched. He was on his guard, and Lovino could only imagine what would be realized from his end if something happened. Ludwig was tall and stern, walking beside his brother and looking almost comical against the backdrop of such a peaceful scene. A soldier walking up on a village home. Lovino half-imagined a glowing torch in his hand, a hay house awaiting them.

Gilbert's sharp rap practically echoed through the quiet. A long, tenacious lapse of silence. He tried again, looking and finding a bell to ring.

"Doesn't seem that anyone's home," Ludwig voiced, his back always towards the door as he watched outwards.

"We could check the barn." Feliciano offered, pointing towards the vast building a little off.

"I'll keep post here," Ludwig said.

"I'm going to take a look inside," Gilbert said. He tried the doorknob, finding it locked and instead opting for the rectangular window that looked out to the porch. Blankets-used-for-blinds blocked them from looking in. Gilbert quickly found something to strong-hold himself through the glass. "Go check the barn. We'll radio in if we find anything."

Lovino, Feliciano, and Arthur quickly made their way towards the back of the house and past it through outspoken and weedy grass towards the barn. It was obvious that there used to be a path along the way, pot holes driven and pounded in by large trucks that would have made their way to the desolate building. Now it was overgrown and patchy and filled with developing goat-heads.

What had once been brown singles along the body of the two-story hay barn were grey and falling off. It looked like a small tornado may have found it in its life and repairs had been denied it. Two large doors were shut loosely, a gap in the bottom where the weathering of the wood had caused cracks and warping of the wood. Lovino put his foot in the hole, catching his toe and pulling back. There was a loud snap as the door pulled backwards.

Must, it was the only word that passed through Lovino's head when the smell of rotten hay and molded wood wafted into his face. The interior of the barn was grayer than that of the singles, taking on the shadow of the roof above, though not without threads of light filtering in through holes.

Immediately Lovino didn't feel right. It was a sinking sensation that pulled at his heart and caused a great tension to throw out his arm, stopping Arthur and Feliciano.

Hanging from the rafters was a large, rusted meat hook. Lovino could only stare. Could only stare as the image of Feliciano's corpse flashed through his head. Could only stare as the remembrance of melting skin and broken faces and dangling feet stopped his breath and his movement and his thoughts.

"Lovino, what is it?" Feliciano asked tentatively.

Lovino stepped back. Along the shadows of the barn he could feel something even more ominous than the vision. It steeped and waited and swirled.

"We're not alone," he announced, eyes glaring towards the corner of the barn where the light from the roof couldn't touch—couldn't touch because no light could touch a void.

A sudden round of claps sounded from above them. The rafters of the barn's upper window had been pushed out and Antonio was squatted above them, a glinting grin on his features. "Tzeentch said you'd come."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_sCREAMING BECAUSE I AM #1 FAN OF THIS STORY ANY OHMYGERSH EVERYTHING IS FALLING INTO PLACE_

_7 days you guys!_

_7 days!_

_(10 or so chapters so srry for the quick updates)_

COMMENT! Glkjfslkja just do the thing I'm too happy to prompt ya


	47. Quarante-Sept

Arthur drew before any one had a chance to move, a sharp clap sounding only to be followed by the snap of a whip; the window Antonio had been on was hit and torn to shreds. Antonio had jumped just in time, catching himself in something of a roll when he hit the ground.

"Haven't you ever heard of respecting other people's property," the ex-cop groaned as he stood up. He rolled his shoulders back, tanned skin bronze in the light but his gaze seeming black with a heavy glare.

"Where is Tzeentch?" Lovino demanded.

"She's off somewhere. Don't worry, though, I don't think you'll be needing her to get what you want. I've come to negotiate with you."

Lovino lowered his gaze into a glower, always aware of the swirling nothingness caused by the  _Hollow(s)_ just inside the barn. "Negotiate?" he asked, jaw stiff in anticipation. "Negotiate what, exactly?"

"Yes, we apprehended him at the front of the barn," Lovino heard from his ear piece, Feliciano whispering the words from behind him.

"Is Tzeentch there?" It was Ludwig's voice.

"No, he says that she's not with him."

"Are there any  _Hollows_?" Gilbert.

Lovino quickly put his hand behind his back, nodding his fist towards Feliciano. "Yes," the kid relayed.

"I'm sure that you came here looking for your friend," Antonio was saying, either oblivious or nonchalant to the whispered conversation going on in front of him. "Alfred Jones."

"You have him here?" Lovino continued, taking a step closer.

"I do indeed," Antonio smiled at him. The smile could fool a nation. His dark glare had softened, the lightest green eyes catching the glint of the sun. He almost even seemed aloof in his childhood glee, as if he were showing off a toy. Alluding to a great time. "And I'll give him to you."

"Where is he?" Feliciano demanded.

Antonio shook his head. "Don't worry about that now. Just know that I have him. Oh, and also know that if you try and cheat and get him before it's time then the consequence will be his death."

"Cut to the chase," Lovino demanded. "What does Tzeentch want?"

Antonio moved only to pull out his object of interest: the resurrection stone. Only, he didn't have one, he had two. "She wants you to finish the job that you started."

"Resurrecting Chaos?"

"Resurrecting the Warp," Antonio corrected sharply. "Tzeentch has no interest in bringing back  _Chaos_."

Lovino blinked. "They're the same person," he defended. "Right?" But when he looked to the Brit for answers all he got was a confused shake of the head. "Okay, fine, resurrecting the Warp. What do you need me to do?"

He extended both of his hands, a stone in each. "I need you to figure out which one is the real one. If you don't, all your friends will die."

Lovino could feel the  _Hollows_  in the barn start to move, only they weren't alone. Focusing his energies he could feel that they were surrounded. "Feliciano," he muttered, his eyes falling from the ex-cop and to the ground.

"Yeah?"

"Take off your glove and give me your hand."

"Are you sure, we've never tried it."

"If you feel any pain tell me and we'll figure something else out, okay?"

"I'm waiting," Antonio called.

"Question," Lovino called back as Feliciano put out his hand. Gently he took it, his heart thrumming, fearful but not without foundation. "How many  _Hollows_  did you acquire from that cult leader?"

When he glanced up the happy, playful dawn of the man's countenance fell. It was dark and brooding. "She warned me about this. I was hoping you'd use your head." He sighed with a shrug. "I guess a rising casualty will be more fun, anyway."

"Gilbert, Ludwig," Lovino screamed into his radio, the smoke of a protective shield forming and wrapping around Feliciano's hand. The bright sun above them was flushed out,  _Hollows_  closing in like snakes. "Get out here,  _now_." He pulled his arm up and away, a motion of pulling a lawn mower to life, elongating his shield just long enough to leave something of an awkwardly built dagger in Feliciano's hand. It wrapped like veins up and around his arm, and Lovino knew that just under those vines was the light blistering along Feliciano's vein. He could only catch the sight for so long before everything in the area became of sea of guck, binding him in a stiff paste. "Are you—"

"I'm fine, now tell me where to hit," Feliciano demanded.

Lovino nodded, though only to himself, as the emptiness expanded through his gut. He closed his eyes. Protection and reflection, he created this from will rather than emotion, his breathing growing harsh as he allowed one to become stronger than the other.

He didn't know why sight came with pain, but it did, and he screamed as every pore cracked into lines, allowing tar to bleed from his skin, pooling and hardening and climbing up his throat and over a doll's face.

A warmth to combat his fire, a phrase to break through his screaming.

He opened his eyes.

Feliciano was at his side, his free hand against his arm. Honey eyes sparked and grew golden in the blue hue of the world, darting back and forth, blind. Wooden woman surrounded them, dead, white eyes. Each one of them were identical to the other, an army. They walked with jagged movements towards their targets.

Ludwig and Gilbert had gotten caught in the storm before they even made it to them. The turned in circles, screaming out to one another to keep their positions known, but something happened, and everything got muddled. Gilbert's weaponry cracked through the air, hitting nothing, but he acted like he had set fire to himself. Arthur's hands sparked blue around him and he kept his eyes closed. A woman was upon him and Lovino could only guess what he was actually seeing.

Antonio smiled in his place, two stones, one bright with energy the other red with something Lovino never wanted to discover.

Quickly Lovino assessed the area. The women were everywhere, and Lovino could  _feel_  that their presence spread and stifled. "Feliciano, behind you, off to the left."

Feliciano turned and the moment he was in the right direction he seemed to be able to see it too—though Lovino was sure that it wasn't the woman that Feliciano was seeing. A manipulation, perhaps. Feliciano drew back before bounding forward, stabbing Lovino's shield towards the creature.

When it hit, however, a bright red light emitted from around the creature and Feliciano was thrown back with a helpless scream. The shield had shattered on contact.

"Feliciano," Lovino groaned out, speaking something of a chore beyond the cyanide pill and the stiffening armor that covered his body. He stooped to help pick the boy up.

Feliciano was panting and his skin at the wrist had been blown open, now openly bleeding. "It didn't—It didn't work," he swallowed.

"Damn it," Lovino growled, grabbing for Feliciano's hand and putting pressure on the wound. He developed another shield, wrapping it around the wound like a protective cusp. "Does that hurt?"

"No; Lovino, what are we going to do?" He was crying.

Lovino helped him to his feet. They were surrounded by an army of wood. Feliciano's and Lovino's energies could blend to defeat them, but Lovino had no idea that the hell that meant! How had they achieved it at the gas station? All he could remember was blackness and that he couldn't move.

Not to mention the fact that everything was starting to dip and stir and burn. Blue was becoming purple and he feared that if he let the newest shield go Feliciano would bleed out.

They were surrounded.

Lovino cried out, throwing a punch forward. Red light and he was on the ground. "What the fuck!" he screamed. Helpless, empty, he needed to combat these things. They were an affect caused by the  _Hollows_. They were a manipulation. Not because Lovino was positive that they were, but because the more he told himself that the further he could push away the creeping blackness of his vision.

He balled his fists and stared, searched for something to do in the situation.

The women were fragile without their protection. He decided this and didn't question it because the first relevant detail he needed to figure out was how to get past the protection.

Antonio seemed to be watching him. Was he not being affected? His eyes laughed, mocked.

Lovino's hand was stolen. Feliciano blinked into the darkness, his movements fumbling and guessing. "Lovino, let's try again."

"No, Fell, it didn't work."

"Then let's try something else."

Obviously, but what? How the hell had they done it the first time? What the fuck does it mean to combine energies? His legs were giving out, every limb trembled, his eyes started blinking on their own in a twitch of doubt and pain and weakness.

Feliciano's hand tightened. "Calm down, Lov." Fuck, he must be hurting him. Screaming from their friends were grunted and let off into the air. The kid's eyes had closed and his eyebrows danced with painful concentration. "I trust you."

_"Do you trust me?"_

_"Depends, are you going to buy me a tiger when we get out of this mess?"_

Were the words that were being filtered through his head of his own development, or were they being pressed by Feliciano? Giggles and liquifying water. Feliciano's hand stopped feeling separate from his own. It was warm and calm and Lovino allowed his muscles to slacken.

"Alright, I got it," Lovino muttered back, gathering his energy as he opened his eyes.

Antonio's smirk dropped when Lovino walked calmly forward, Feliciano following easily behind him. Lovino reached out, sucking in a breath and keeping himself calm.

A bright red sheen covered the  _Hollow_  when his hand approached, but the area simmered a bright yellow as Lovino's hand passed through.

When his palm brushed against the woman's chest, the scream of a banshee tore past a grotesque twisting of lips. The red sheen expanded and blew, becoming white, swirling around before with a rush of air everything was sucked in. The woman stuttered backwards, all the color of the lights forming in clawing hands before splitting and disappearing, white, dead eyes growing pupils that bled every color Lovino could imagine as she fell.

He moved to the next  _Hollow_. And then the next.

"What do you think you're doing?" Antonio screamed above the screeching agony of a dying  _Hollow_.

Feliciano tensed. "Lovino—"

"Focus, Fell, it's working."

The kid dipped his head into a small nod. "I know."

Their peace was cut off when Antonio came forward with a scream. Lovino hesitated.

The tan man threw the first punch. Lovino jumped back, pulling Feliciano along with him. The kid let out a surprised gasp. "What are you doing?"

Lovino let go of Feliciano's hand and came forward with an attack. A balled fist caught the fucker in the face. Antonio stumbled back, a new fire in his eyes. He kicked and Lovino blocked it with an armored arm. "You won't do me any damage," Lovino said with a glare.

Antonio collected himself with a deepset frown. A frown until it wasn't.

A small device fished and pushed.

Lovino tensed and fell as the blue and purple of the world spazzed and came apart. He couldn't keep the sight like this, the white armor, he couldn't, not with the String falling apart around him, he couldn't.

A foot crashed into the side of his face and Lovino could feel how the armor was pushed and spread like dried callouses that bled. A kick in his side sent him from his hands to rolling in the dirt.

His vision blacked out and he let the sight fall, coughing as he rose to his hands and knees, his head breaking and falling.

"I can't hurt you?" Antonio said above him, another kick. Lovino's world was black, he couldn't see the attack. "I can hurt you! I can hurt anyone!" He drew his foot back again.

Lovino turned and caught this one in his gut, hugging it close and holding it there, coughing and blinking past the tar in his veins. "No—I—I won't let you hurt anyone else—" he twisted the man's ankle quickly and mercilessly. He found no comfort in the deep cry the man screamed out, nor how he fell to the ground when Lovino yanked the foot backwards, dropping the over confident bastard.

His body moved and his fists were slamming into the bastard's face before he knew what he was doing. Blood and snot and spit covered his knuckles when he pulled back, his breathing shallow. His head was dizzy and the anger surrounded him. The world was dark, and Lovino felt like it fed into his anguish. He felt the flames simmer in his blood, could focus so well that the vibrations of the man beneath him turning to cough up blood tremored through him as if he were a tuning fork.

Lovino stooped low. "Call of your fucking  _Hollows_ ," he growled menacingly, "or else I'll kill you right here and now."

"Tzeentch—Tzeentch wouldn't—"

Lovino slammed his fist forward again. "Call them off, bastard!" He raised his first again but the choking coughs of below stalled his movements.

"Okay, okay," he promised. Lovino didn't move until the sluggish air started to thin, and then he only moved to hold Antonio down. Slowly everything cleared.

"Lovino," Arthur said, the first on the scene. Lovino moved off the ex-cop.

"Watch him," he ordered, casting his gaze up to look for Feliciano.

A handful of bodies were littered around the weeded grass, wooden women with clawing hands, but somewhere among them the kid was sat slumped into his lap, a hand tightly wrapped around his wrist. "Fuck," Lovino said, pulling his shirt off and using his foot to tear the hems enough that he could rip at the fabric with his hands. "Let me see it," he demanded.

Feliciano nodded, his breaths staggered.

Burns and blood is what met him. Lovino tied around it quickly, his gaze soft as he looked up at the boy. "I'm—"

"If you apologize I'm going to never talk to you again," the kid half-exhaled half-laughed. "You did good, Lov."

Lovino was about to pull him into a kiss when Gilbert sounded, him and Ludwig making a quick jog over to them. Instead he just nodded at the kid with something of a soft smile before standing.

"What happened?"

"I got him to call off the  _Hollows_ , but he says that Alfred is here."

"Here?" Ludwig asked, coming to stand beside his brother. "Why would they bring him here."

"I think he might be lying," Lovino said, looking over at the scene. Quick, flashing blue cuffs had been placed around his wrists and from the looking on his face they hurt. "We can take him back to base, or maybe somewhere else, for interrogation. It seems that he knows a hell of a lot more than we do."

"Where is Tzeentch?"

"He didn't say. All he said was that she wasn't here."

"Could be a lie," Gilbert muttered.

"Likely is," Lovino agreed lowly. He helped Feliciano stand and the four of them made their way over to Antonio. His nose was visibly crooked, though Lovino wasn't sure whether it was broken or not. He also wasn't sure whether the man was glaring or if his eyes had started puffing up.

"Where is Alfred," Gilbert demanded.

"As I told the others, if you try and cheat he will die."

"What do you mean cheat," Ludwig continued, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes cold.

"There is a process," Antonio spat, his demeanor losing its calm. "You give us the heart and we give you the detective."

"The heart, what is the heart?" Lovino demanded quickly.

"Antonio, why are you kneeling before these men?"

The tension in Lovino's back was stifling. He turned.

Tzeentch walked smoothly, her grey tattooed skin almost yellow under the brash sun. She wore a tight-lipped frown and black eyes held no humor, only calculations as she took the lot of them in.

Immediately Lovino fed on the energy that came from her.  _He could manipulate it_. Though, it felt different than the others' energies. He wasn't sure in what way, though. Pulled away, shielded, maybe so active and away that he would have to distract her before even attempting anything.

"I—" Antonio started, but something seemed to be cast upon him and he choked like he couldn't breathe. Lovino looked back quickly. Was this her manipulation? He coughed and sputtered, his tongue lulling out as he heaved forward.

"Stop it," Lovino demanded.

Tzeentch stopped in front of them, she looked bored. "Stay focused, he is your enemy."

"He's your ally!" Feliciano argued lowly, his brows furrowing. "Why would you attack him?"

Black eyes flashed with understanding. "You should ask your own allies that. You're hurt."

Feliciano actually smiled at her. Lovino tightened his jaw. "What is your motivation, Tzeentch?" Feliciano asked. Lovino moved to say something but the kid continued. "What do you want?"

"I'm sure the human has already told you, do not be dull."

"I just don't understand. What do you get out of it? Will you not disappear? Or are you really planning to be the brain of the new god?"

"Feliciano," Lovino hissed, "what are you doing?"

Feliciano looked over to him. "I don't get it."

"Of course, you don't get it," Tzeentch said flatly. "How could you possibly get it?"

"If you told me I might be able to try."

Tzeentch stared for a long moment. With a small sigh she shook her head. "How can this be?" she muttered to herself, a hand to the tattoos around her skull. The choking fr

The choking from Antonio let up. Suddenly, so did the shackles. He stood.

Lovino looked back. "Arthur, what the hell are you doing?" The blond was looking around confused, his eyes passing over Lovino with no recognition. "Let him off," Lovino screamed at the Neverborn.

Antonio shuffled forward and past Lovino. Lovino moved to reach out, but the way he was walking—the bronzed man didn't even seem to be alive. Like the wooden women his face was blank, a living zombie. He fell to a knee in front of the Never born. With smooth movements he made his offering.

Tzeentch took the two stones. The moment she touched them her energy shifted, strained. Was the stone attempting to absorb her? Or was it the other one that was causing her pain? Lovino didn't have time before his arms were being torn behind him and he was being pushed to his knees. "What the fuck?"

"How does it feel, to have an ally turn on you?" she deadpanned at them.

Feliciano strained, his own arms pinned and his head forced down by Ludwig's elbow.

Lovino was tired, his body still ached, and he knew the signs of a slowing heart, but he still closed his eyes and reached out for his friends' energies. They were familiar, he had practiced on the lot of them enough to know what he was digging for and through.

When he opened his eyes, however, he found himself chin deep in water. His arms were still wretched, useless, and it seemed that he could only stare forward at the figure on the island before him. She was manipulating him. It was so obvious that Lovino knew that it was a power move. She stared down at him.

"Can you see the truth?" she asked. "Can you see that your friends are my pawns?"

"I can see that you want something, and I refuse to participate." Lovino sneered back.

"Is that how it's going to be?" She seemed to sigh. Feliciano was beside him, his head still pressed low, beneath the water. His body thrashed and convulsed.

Lovino's heart could have stopped there.

Calmly, soothing his pulse, he looked straight into black eyes. "I know that you can't manipulate him."

The world dissolved back into the farm. "Lovino," Feliciano strained, trying to break the hold. "Don't listen to her—she's—she's tricking you—"

"What do you want?" Lovino demanded.

Antonio moved aside and Tzeentch walked forward. "I want you to tell me which one of these stones is the real one."

Lovino sneered at her. "What kind of riddle is that, damn it?"

Gilbert realized him, and he fell forward, quickly making his way to his feet. She was taller than him, taller than them all, and loomed with a piercing gaze. He puffed his chest defiantly. He would not play her game.

"Lovino Gaspari, you will tell me which stone is the real one, or I will kill your Golden Mean." Ludwig's hold wrapped around Feliciano's throat. The kid cried out in the sharp whine that he always did before he  _bit_ , but the blond didn't react in pain when teeth dug into his arm. He just pulled his skin away and punched the kid in the face before securing his hold under the boy's chin. Feliciano gasped out, struggling to get out of the hold. "And don't try to break my hold, again. You will regret it."

"What do you want?"

"I want my heart." Her words were slow and drawn out. "Unfortunately, you're the one that possesses it." Gilbert grabbed his wrist just as he was forming his sword of anger. "Tell me which stone is real and I will allow your friend to go free."

"You don't know which fucking stone is real? I seriously doubt that."

She lifted the stones, Feliciano choked out. "How long can humans go without breathing? Just tell me."

"N—N—No, Lov—" Feliciano stammered out. Ludwig tightened his grip. Lovino turned to look back, to try and find Arthur, anyone, but Gilbert held his gaze forward, fingers digging into his temples.

"The right one," Lovino lied with a glare.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes."

Ludwig pushed Feliciano to the ground. "One of these stones will burn him, one will kill him, I hope you were right."

"Wait!" Feliciano was rubbing at his neck, coughing passed the tears in his eyes. "Wait," Lovino repeated, calmer.

Tzeentch turned back to him with a hum. The corners of her mouth were lifted in a smirk.

What was her angle? What did she want? Why—What did this accomplish. Her heart?

Feeling like the King of Fools, Lovino allowed these questions to fade from his head, and the one asking which was the real stone filter through.

"Lovino—" Feliciano cried out to him.

Lovino couldn't look at the kid. Gazing through bleared eyes and heavy lashes Lovino looked to his the double-edge sword's mirror. "Right," he said smally. "The stone in your right hand is the real one."

What was her plan? How was he playing along?

In the mirror he could see her features blossoming into a wide grin.

Ludwig stole forward and grabbed Feliciano by the neck with both hands. Lovino snapped his head up. "You said you'd let him go!" he screamed.

"Hold your sword to your chest," Tzeentch instructed. "DO IT."

Lovino was nothing but helpless as he obliged. Feliciano bawled out a coughed version of his name. The tip of Lovino's sword skimmed the starred scar over his chest. His arms and shoulders trembled lightly, but he did his best to still them.

Tzeentch placed the stone in his hand, he refused to look at her. He pressed the stone to his hilt, staring forever downwards.

The stone seemed to be pulled into the weapon, lacing, sewing itself into the handle. The weapon pulsed and suddenly the tip and the blades softened and spread. Spread over his body like a warm goo, moving on its own until, like his armor, it covered and stiffened. The stone sat over the scar in his chest.

Thud.

Feliciano was realized and Lovino finally looked up. He rolled the rubber capsule in between his teeth. "Feliciano," he said, catching his gaze as his heart seemed to slow. "I love you."

Feliciano screamed, sharper than a  _Hollow_ , tearing forward and pushing him back just as he was about to bite. Lovino put up his arm to block him.

Thud.

They fought, Feliciano's tears and kicks and grabs messy and easy to detain. Lovino had him on the ground in a moment, kneeling over him. The kid's tears fell and fell in rivers of despair.

He pushed Lovino's hand off his chest and grabbed at his head, pressing him into a gasping kiss.

The pill passed partners.

The silver armor seemed to activate and spread. It spread to Feliciano and Lovino couldn't pull away from the tight embrace of the boy's arms and of the passing armor. Suddenly the stone burned against Lovino's skin, his heart changing direction and speeding up. Speeding, speeding, as the stone moved with the armor and Lovino was released.

Silver sunk into Feliciano's skin like a lotion, disappearing and only leaving the impossible green of the stone and it sunk into the boy's chest. He gasped, his eyes gold, watering, dancing just past Lovino's shoulders.

"Feliciano!" Lovino screamed, clawing at the stone, ignoring the impossible heat.

The boy's hand slipped away and back, pressing something against the back of Lovino's hand before it went stiff. Lovino turned his palm over and held the boy's hand, pulling him into him. "Feliciano, no, no, you dirty fucking cheat, no, Feliciano, no." The stone loosened it's hold.

The stone fell into the grass.

Feliciano didn't move.

"FELICIANO!"

Why wasn't he crying why wasn't he crying why wasn't he crying why wasn't he crying.

Tzeentch was above him.

Tzeentch moved to secure the stone.

Black surrounded Lovino. Surrounded Feliciano. Surrounded and burned and flashed like fire.

"What did you do?" He screamed up at her.

For the first time, Tzeentch hesitated. Black eyes blackened.

Lovino's powers pulsed. His fingers twisted in the mess of auburn hair that he held against his chest.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"I took my heart." Her voice told nothing of the way her energy trembled. Lovino put the boy down.

He would kill her.

He needed to kill her.

Smoke flowed and hardened around him. She backed away from the stone.

He would kill her.

He needed to kill her.

Fel—

"Lovino—" The voice was Gilbert's. "Stop!"

Lovino allowed his first sword of anger, of bloodlust, of power and revenge. He would kill her. He would take her heart. He would take it back. He would kill her.

"Feli—" Someone choked from behind him, but he could only see the grey skin. He could only focus on the way it peeled back to reveal muscle and bone in his head. How it would open to a ribcage. Open to a heart. He would take her heart.

Tzeentch's energy hardened and he could feel how it twisted and pulled at his mind. He could feel as his whole world was manipulated. Black smoke of his power softened and withered away, but he didn't command it to. His sword was gone, but he didn't want it to be.

Could she take away his powers?

Who cared.

Humans long figured out how to kill without powers.

He tore forward at her with a balled fist.

Suddenly everything changed and was tearing into his skull. He screamed, taking another step. Then another, pushing through as he screamed, as he was blinded by pain and white—it even erased the images of Feliciano's new heart.

Tzeentch also screamed, Lovino couldn't focus on her energy or his or anyone's.

His shoulder was ripped back, someone was screaming in his face.

Then there was a bright light.

Then everything under him burned.

Then there was a bright light.

Then everything was quiet.

He fell to his knees, hands trembling, body trembling, everything, nothing, what—there was no stability. No—No stable ground. An earthquake. A rupture of impossible—

Impossible despair.

Raising his eyes from his hands, from the ground, he found Feliciano.

The kid didn't move.

A gaping hole burned where his heart used to be.

Dry eyes. Fumbling vision. Slow crawls.

"Feliciano—"

Everything was twisted by a sharp slap to his face, ripping his head to the side. He turned back, hand against his cheek.

"How the fuck could you let this happen?"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_It's so weird that the question of "what is the most magical object on Earth?" was one day asked and we, as a collective, seemed to respond "rocks."_

_Yo, if you're looking for more Unrelated!Itacest, I published a story called_ Love You to the Moon and Back _. It will be three parts._

 

COMMENT! Remember that one smut-ish scene where Lovino was like "I'm not going to burn out your heart." Well, uh, so he lied. Comment your thoughts!


	48. Quarante-Huit

_"How the fuck could you let this happen?"_

Ludwig. Lovino swallowed, his tongue heavy and mind blank. "I—I don't—know." Everything had happened so quickly. Everything was so wrong. Why wasn't he crying? He felt—he felt like his heart has been ripped out, replaced by the stone that took Feliciano's.

"That's no excuse," the blond screamed at him.

"Ludwig," Gilbert snapped. Lovino looked up to the albino. He felt small; he was nothing but an ant. Nothing. Nothing. Gilbert's features were steel, his eyes hard and focused. "This is no time for mourning," he decided coldly.

"Gilbert, just because—"

" _Ludwig_ ," Gilbert said once more.

Ludwig's jaw tightened visibly, something of a twitch, something of maybe a hidden tear. He turned away from Lovino with a furry that burned the air around his figure. "I'm sick of loosing people," he drew lowly.

"I know, Lud," Gilbert sighed back.

"But you don't care."

"I'm not about to waste time on a sentiment that won't bring him back. I didn't do it for Mom and Dad, and I certainly won't do it for a sniveling brat. I've excepted all of our deaths as inevitable, Ludwig. Grow up and realize the reality you're in."

"Just because you're an asshole doesn't mean that you're more adult than me!"

"No, me being able to recognize that this is bigger than us does." That silenced the taller of the two. Lovino found himself being scrutinized by the cherry glare. "Lovino, stand up. We don't have time to beat the shit out of you and hope you don't snap. You've lost the option to, so stand up."

A flush of fear pulled at his chest. "No," he muttered, to himself, to the albino, to whoever would listen. "No, no I'm not just going to accept this!"

"We've discussed this!" Gilbert ripped, the tenor in his voice vibrating violently past the natural, forever hiss. "Eurydice should have stayed dead." Gilbert made a single movement and suddenly the stone that killed Feliciano was rolling in front of Lovino.

With impossibly steady fingers Lovino reached out, finding when he opened his fist the thing that Feliciano had pressed into his palm before he died.

A thin, silver whistle.

"You weren't the one going into this fight willing to die, Lovino," Gilbert ground lowly.

Lovino grabbed the stone and stared down at it for a long minute. He held it at the base of his chest, allowing himself a long moment to stare at the ground. A long moment to remember the kid, his touches, his kiss, his scent, his passion. For a long moment he gripped the stone so tight that the edges bit into his palm. The energy swirled. "I'm sorry, Feliciano," he whispered, this time to no one, because the only person he wanted to hear it was dead. Dead.

Lovino stood.

"We have to find a way to destroy this," he decided, rising his gaze, feeling cold, but knowing that he was alive. "There can be no way that we allow Tzeentch to get her hands on the resurrection stone." Ludwig looked like he was going to speak, but Lovino dismissed him with a slight turn of his head. A sigh. "Can't let the idiot's sacrifice go to waste."

Cold but alive.

He could live with this.

"Arthur, what are you doing?" Lovino demanded.

Arthur was looming over Feliciano's body, a deep frown etched into his features. Lovino let himself look. At least the kid's eyes hadn't been burned out too. "I've never seen this kind of sorcery before," Arthur was saying. There was a sadness to his voice. A mourning that he wouldn't let reach his vocabulary. "Feliciano is human."

"Was human," Gilbert corrected.

"We can figure out how it was done later," Lovino said. He didn't need Arthur or Gilbert doting over the fucking corpse. He—no. "Gilbert, you weren't able to figure out how to break it—"

"Not a single scratch," he agreed. He looked at Lovino like he was trying to figure him out.

"We don't have time to wait around and try to figure out how to destroy it on our own. I think that we should go back to its creator."

"Anubis," Gilbert nodded.

"What are you two doing?" Ludwig screamed. He had been standing off to the side, Lovino could sense the tension in his energy.

Funny, he was a psychic. Perhaps he should take up reading palms after this.

"Ludwig—" Lovino started.

A fist caught him, floored him, he sighed, heavy eyes, heavy limbs, easy words. "Are you done?"

"He fucking loved you!" Ludwig said, his voice harsh but lacking in the proper volume to reach the fervor in his countenance.

Lovino nodded, easy, heavy, "yeah, great. Now let's—"

"You're okay with him being dead?"

A flash of frustration seemed to only dim everything further. "Why don't you get it?" Lovino asked. This whole situation was redundant. Why did Ludwig insist on being like this? What was he accomplishing?

"Bottling—"

"Why don't you get it?" Lovino screamed back from the ground. "He's fucking dead, Ludwig, and we don't have the fucking time to be fighting over this. Tzeentch will be on our ass at any moment."

The blond could cry. Why was Lovino always falling envious of the fucking dog? "How can you—"

Lovino picked himself up, moving past the blond without another word. "We need to get to Anubis and try to get him to destroy this."

"What if he's still working for Tzeentch?" Arthur asked up. Something danced behind his eyes. Was he about to fucking cry too?

"He might be," Lovino gave, "but we have to take this risk. Unless you can tell me that you know how to break this."

"I can't."

"Then you have your orders."

There was a long pause. Green, it simmered or danced or something else vaguely metaphoric that didn't matter to the fucking situation. "I can take you to the Afterlife, but I cannot assist you in. I can't even be positive that you will make it out alive. Living things cannot travel into the Afterlife."

"But Anubis can because he is a god?"

"Yes."

"Then we will risk that, as well."

"Are you sure, Lovino?" Gilbert asked.

"Don't play that fucking game with me, Gilbert," Lovino sneered at him. "If I don't make it then you find another fucking way to reach the bastard. Are we done here?"

Gilbert blinked at him, but his chin was strong. "Yes."

* * *

He cursed the feelings in his chest that he couldn't dispel as they took their first steps towards the open-mouthed cave. He needed to stay focused, damn it. He could consider the fucking kid later.

"This is where I wait," Arthur decided lowly. The winds were strong, a failed attempt to toss them around with the frozen rain. Dark clouds swirled overhead, their surroundings nothing but rocks and caves. Lovino relished in the cold; he could finally breath, frosted and sharp.

"Alright," Lovino agreed, continuing forward.

The mouth of the cave wasn't very big. Not something he would imagine to be the opening of the Afterworld. He practically had to climb through and past the pressing stones walls, his clothing being pulled at as he shuffled, the rivets cutting at his cheeks, popcorn stone crumbling into his hair, into his clothes, into his eyes. Still, he pushed on. Pushed on until he came to an opening.

The air was thinner here—or perhaps thicker, he wasn't sure. The subtle grey lights from the mouth was nothing but a blink behind him. Lovino counted on with his arms slightly outstretched before him, walked with careful steps. Walked until he felt something reach out and wrap around his skin.

It was a strange sensation. It didn't burn or freeze, it didn't feel slimed or hard or wooden or thin, it didn't feel at all—

Yet, he knew to pull away, a sudden trepidation quaking through his being. He stepped back, pressing genially to the area that had been touched. It felt...ashed. As if the skin had become paper and set aflame and now was nothing but a dust he could press through with the lightest touch.

He set his jaw and called his armor. Palpitating pulses allowed his legs to step forward. A million arms from the walls, the floor, the ceiling, they all reached down to caress, to wrap, to pull him apart into nothing but dust. They were invisible to him, but he could feel—no, he was simply aware—of every touch. They climbed around him, following his makeup, every vein, a sensation of nothingness against his face. Death, a lover of oblivion.

His armor wasn't working. It was the loss of his arm that came first. There was no pain, it was as empty as his head for he considered nothing. His shoulder fell away like a crumbling statue of millennia's past.

Mountains become sand.

He kept walking.

A breeze kissed him as he walked. It wasn't from behind him or in front of him; walking creates a force of air, billowing and strong. Part of Lovino's face tumbled with the phenomena. Sinking down, jumping, each piece heavier than the air, heavy enough to fall onto his chest and take that with him. A million invisible hands, his eyesight dead from the lack of light, dying as dry eyes found that they could be nothing but.

He kept walking.

He kept walking until he couldn't any longer. His leg stumbled and became nothing. He became nothing.

The death that believed if he was nothing, then everything he was became nothing.

His heart swirled in the stone.

His eyes were dry.

He drifted with the stone.

Together, they would be nothing.

Together.

Nothing or something or everything, he didn't care. Consideration would come when they were together.

* * *

He opened his eyes to find the world a bursting sensation of everything, for nothing had no place at the foot of a god. He was bowed low, his head in his arms, his hips sat over his legs. He stared downwards. Humbled, nothing. Nothing to a god.

"Lovino," the voice was booming and familiar.

There was light here. It illuminated the stone floor. Grey, jagged, something. He could feel the stone in his pocket. Green, jagged, facing nothingness.

"Anubis," Lovino said into the ground, having no interest, no need, no defiance to look up and glare. He was comfortable with his qualms. "Please destroy the stone that is intended to resurrect the Warp." Should he lose his faith in himself or in the god if the silence was to continue?

He sat upward, on his heels, eyes cast against grey and jagged and he fished the green and jagged to join in a clashing insolence. The floor was crestfallen with a million steps, or perhaps with only one, one that mattered, while the stone he held out as offering was so brilliant, so pure in its energy and power. Lovino screwed his eyes shut.

Brilliant and pure and nothing.

Nothing to him. He would consider later.

"Please," he choked out; "if you truly wish to right your wrong, please destroy this."

Him.

"You have lost your Golden Mean."

There was no question. Lovino couldn't raise his head from its bowed position, chin tucked to chest. He was too tired. The nape of his neck held no purpose. No interaction of muscle and muse.

"Please, destroy this. Do not let Tzeentch succeed." His arms were growing weak under the weight of the stone he held. His biceps trembled, a tremor that reached his shoulders and back. "Please, Anubis. You have betrayed everyone enough already. Please.  _Please_." The shaking reached the muscles in his face. His foundation, his empire of drought, tumbled with a single tear. "Please, don't disgrace him. Please."

The faith is lost in humanity, by humanity, when the god sits silent.

Stand up. He needed to stand up. Consider the fucking asshole later. Consider—fuck. He needed to stand and keep walking because Gilbert was right. Stand up.

Slowly, yearning for the numbness that came with ash, understanding not the smoker but the stick pressed against unsteady lips, Lovino stood. He would burn until the last of him fell.

How fucking poetic.

The area he found himself in was something of a cave, but white smoke swirled and touched the walls with an amiable kiss. Anubis was in stark contrast, his energy a perfect black as always. Lovino stared at him.

"What the fuck is your price?" Thought-out words, failing fire. Fuck. "What do you want?" Breaking teeth. Breaking teeth quaking as a bellicose scream rose the stone above Lovino's head and threw it to the ground as hard as the brunet could muster. "What do you want? Fucking tell me what more you fucking want? Destroy it! Destroy it and fucking end this or kill me and finish what you fucking started!"

"I can't destroy it."

"What do you mean you can't destroy it?"

"There is only one way to destroy the energy in that stone, and that is by reversal. There is another stone that was created to counter that one. I tried to keep it a hidden secret, but my plans were found out and I lost possession of it."

The second stone. The second fucking stone was the only way to destroy this one? Then—"they were held together," Lovino sneered, dubious. "How can it be possible that the other stone would destroy this one if they were in such close proximity?"

"Reversal is not a thing that can destroy the protection set on that stone." Anubis explained, no waver to his tone as he spoke out so clearly. "The stone you hold absorbs energy until the final steps are secured. The stone of reversal destroys the energy on the spot."

Lovino let the information sink in, slow as it was. Slow as his initial steps were towards the bounced resurrection stone. He screamed again, pulling his foot back and bringing it forward to send the fucking object cascading into the walls. He turned with a flourish. "Say it, damn it! Fucking say it!"

"The Warp must be resurrected for her to officially be destroyed."

Fists couldn't ball tight enough. "You knew the whole plan from the very fucking beginning."

Rhetorical, answered. "Yes."

"Why did you go along with it? Why did you turn back? See it through! Why—"

"You lost your Golden Mean."

Why did he have to bring up that fucking idiot a-fucking-gain?

A fizzle of light drown the world, a sea made of foaming energy, and suddenly Feliciano was there, in front of them, his heart gone and his eyes opened, staring in a peacefulness one can only receive in the time of accepting death. His face was calm. No hooks or fear staring down the barrel of a gun or tears and golden eyes. He died there, and he was dead here. He sat on the ground between the god and the brunet about to lose his fucking mind in a sea of poetic rambles that would maybe help him put a word, a reflection, a categorization to these emotions—he was never fucking good with emotions, he could never pinpoint them, could never—never could he use the rich and vast eternity of English or French or Japanese or Arabic, every language had been at his disposal and yet he still fell short when it came to explaining the way his whole body just  _stopped_  and his mind  _stopped_  and everything became a nothingness made out of every emotion that could ever be mixed into one.

Black.

It was the only word to describe all and nothing.

Black.

"You lost your heart." Anubis was the god of death, sure he had books of poetry hidden somewhere. What a—"The story of the Golden Mean has never been truly told, because its truth is only known by two. It was impossible to hide the existence of the Golden Mean, and when the Confraternity caught wind of the existence they asked questions. Incomplete beings always ask questions. They are never satisfied with the world as it is.

"The Warp is a creation of purity. She was a god, all gods are complete, balanced; but, that completion could never keep her from convincing herself that she could be  _better_. She always saw herself as incomplete because she possessed a humanity that no other god did. She possessed a heart; at least, that's what she blamed it on. In reality all she had was the impatience for contemporary. She wanted things, she wanted to see things move, to change, but when she couldn't get it she found that it hurt her physically. It made her impulsive, brash, outlandish. She knew that some of her wants were unrealistic, but she couldn't talk herself out of them.

"So, in an action she claimed to be designed in clarity rather than another unreasonable  _desire_ , the Warp separated what she deemed to be the problem. The Warp was made up of five main powers, Chaos was made up of four. Without desire she was left with only logic, she could no longer understand the passion of her enemies or her people, the humanity that was designed after her. It made her weak because no longer was she looking to better herself of the world in a way she had not thought of before. It made her weak because without her passion she was blind the rifts and rolls of the real world.

"Upon separation she came to me to learn how to destroy her newest creation. She had created Neverborns before, so she knew what would become of the leftover energy if she reabsorbed it, and she logically calculated that the same thing would happen to the complete energy if she didn't. Logic was so desperate to separate itself from passion that she actually begged for me to destroy it. So, I did. I destroyed the Warp's heart.

"She grew into a god complex without the balance of person and mind. She was no longer complete. Her wishes to grow more powerful, to see her wills realized, grew stronger and stronger until it overpowered her whole being and she was forced to relinquish all control. To split herself into the final four. The final four and a descendent."

Anubis took a short moment to himself. Lovino stayed silent, waiting. "The first descendent was made of the four powers, as you are, and never realized their Mean. No one knew that it existed. An empire fell at their hands. The second descendent, sent to take the throne, was the first to find power and balance. Of course, with power came his demise at the hands of scared men, so if wasn't long before he, too, fell."

Lovino furrowed a brow. "I don't understand," he admitted lowly. "You destroyed the Warp's heart. How can it be possible that a Golden Mean exists?"

"Because it was the humanity that allowed it to. Humans are made after the image of the Warp. They are chaotic and find a reason to place consequences to every action. They ask questions and never sit still. Unlike the Warp, their energies are incomplete. They strive too vastly into the idea of perfection, and if they were not so focused on perfecting themselves then they may accomplish completion. The two things are different, of course. Perfection and completion. They can exist in unity, but humanity has allowed them to exist separately, as well.

"Love. It is the thing that humans call the bond between two or more energies that seem to complete one another. Rarely are they right, if love is that then they are actually never right. A human cannot become complete because they do not have the parts to do so. Every human is missing something. However, they can perfect the parts they contain. Find peace or war depending on the discord in their heads, and be it with another or with themselves they can find a perfect balance of control over their own  _parts_.

"A descendent of Chaos, however, consists four of the five needed parts. The energy should be impossible to complete, however, through this characterization of partnership it seems that it is possible to create a perfect energy mixed with the descendent, and the missing part.

"Your Golden Mean was an energy of desire, as every Golden Mean in the past has been. The stronger the bond between energies, the more complete you became. Balanced, able to defeat the pure anarchy of a  _Hollow_. Unlike the energies of normal humans, the connection between a descendent and a Golden Mean is only possible through the changing of energies."

Lovino blinked. "The changing of energies?"

"Any human with desire as their main mold cannot become a Golden Mean. It takes the humanity of the descendent to allow it. If you would not have allowed yourself to be vulnerable enough to care for this boy, he would have been to you what any other human is. You let yourself love him, and therefore you allowed his energy to morph and change your own. His devotion to you allowed it to happen."

Lovino shook his head, looking anywhere but the kid. "But I can't manipulate him. His energies are off limit."

"That is only because the bond has happened. His energy has become your energy. It is interlaced. You cannot manipulate yourself no matter how hard you try, and the formed connection has made it so you cannot manipulate him, either."

Lovino frowned. "So, I could have—There is a possibility that he could have never become my Mean?"

"It could have been anyone and it could have been no one. The mutual decision of intimacy, platonic or romantic, doesn't matter, is what allowed this."

So, if Lovino had simply not cared—not taken that fucking job, thought him a little more annoying, a little less intriguing…Feliciano would still be alive if he would have just followed his head rather than his fucking  _humanity_. He shook his head. "He's dead because I'm a fucking idiot."

"You have lost your Golden Mean, but he is not dead."

"Excuse me?"

"His energy is in the stone you so rashly abuse. It has survived because it is incased in your powers." The double-edge sword had bled into the kid, had surrounded his heart? Had allowed it to survive? "Tzeentch needed you to pass on your energies to his heart to allow it durability as well as completion. The Golden Mean, when perfectly mixed with that of a decedent's vulnerability, has the ability to mimic that of the Warp's own heart."

The brunet found his shoes. "He's become the Warp's final piece, then?"

"No. He is only a deception. The Warp's heart is destroyed. There is no brining it back. Tzeentch cannot understand this, does not understand that anything can be recreated. The Warp is dead, only Chaos can be revived."

"What will happen to Feliciano's heart?"

"It will not be strong enough and, within no time at all, the human's heart will be destroyed forever leaving only Chaos to reign." The kid's fucking sacrifice didn't add assistance to either side of the god damn war, did it? "Tzeentch has gathered an army. More creatures of the void are being gathered, as well as Neverborns. She plans to take over the Order with or without the aid of those in the stone."

"So, we defeat her and you destroy her like you did the Warp's heart. Get the other gods in on it! They must be planning something?"

There was a long pause. "I do not possess the strength to destroy her." His voice took on no bitterness, only a pensive truth.

"What do you mean?"

"There is only so much energy in the whole of the overall megaverse," he said, "and the continuous creation of life and worlds has use up the energies."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that the gods are staying out of the war because if they were to fall, there is no telling that there would be enough energy to craft a being to replace them. Tzeentch knows this. She is looking to kill every god, because it could potentially mean killing them for good."

"So what? A couple useless gods fall! She is one Neverborn! If they would have just been destroyed like the Warp's heart—"

"They weren't."

"Then go back to a time she was on the String. Catch her there and kill her when she isn't expecting it."

"While you were on the String, when Feliciano died, there was a group sent to do just that. Two gods have already died."

"Then send all of them!"

Anubis sighed. "She is prepared. She does not step onto the String without securities put into place. There is a device she possesses that renders those attached to the String unable to fight back. And it seems—" for the first time in the whole conversation Anubis hesitated. "She has discovered the ability to block energies. She has discovered how to render gods useless of their powers."

"No," Lovino pressed back, "no, that's just a trick of manipulation. She can't—She can't actually manipulate you guys."

"It is not an ability of manipulation. I don't know what it is, but it's there."

Lovino could fall. The gods were as useless as the men in this? Still, men fought on the basis of permanent demise all the time! It was a factor of life. But…But without the gods there would be no one to control the String. Gilbert had his qualms, but he recognized their usefulness in some aspect. Without gods, all life would be lost. "What is her end goal?" Lovino muttered helplessly.

"What is your end goal, Lovino?"

Lovino flash a confused look up at him. "What? That doesn't matter. What matters is stopping her!"

"It is no longer about just stopping her. Without a general the soldiers stop fighting, but in this case all she is is leading the way, nothing more. Her army must be stopped."

"Then that's what matters! I do—"

"The connection between a Golden Mean and a descendent can defeat the anarchy of the voids."

Lovino shook his head. "I—I can't fall in love again. I can't—"

"Resurrect the Warp," Anubis said smoothly. Something glinted through the air towards him. Lovino caught it. A resurrection stone? Fuck how many of these things were there? Retrieving the other stone, he compared. The new one was lighter, in energy and weight, in mass, and it was also rounder; smaller, fragile. It seemed that if he even dropped it he would crack it. "You must resurrect the Warp and use this stone to retrieve Feliciano's heart before it can be crushed. From there it is your job to destroy Chaos."

"Feliciano is dead," Lovino decided coldly, remembering what Gilbert had told him. "Resurrection is not exact. Anyway, he will be a part of this other resurrection. There will be—How can I distinguish him from the other four Neverborns?"

"You must rely on your intuition."

Lovino sighed with a snap of dim humor. "You're speaking out of your ass. You don't know what to do."

"Do you rather not try at all?"

"No," Lovino said, "but it is not up to me what this war results to. With Feliciano, without, I am not strong enough to defeat even a Neverborn. I'm not even fast enough to fucking kill myself correctly. Go back to the String and do that. Kill me. Kill me at any point in my life. End this now. Kill a descendent. Anyone of them. Why have you let her get this far?  _Life_ is at stake."

"We cannot go back and kill your ancestors, or you, because they are being heavily protected."

Lovino set his jaw. "An idiot and a coward. You really can't expect us to be able to do anything helpful in this war, do you?"

"No, I don't. But it is not only us."

Not only us. Once again Lovino was a peg in a fucking wheel that was turning whether he was ready to play or not. But, it was how it worked. A million pieces were ignorant to him, but they were playing. A million separate jobs being done by people he didn't know, by people he couldn't worry or care about because he had never known them. And, once again, Anubis sat there offering him  _his_  part. Once again, Lovino was reduced to a pile of inabilities because if he took a chance and said no, if he doubted this, then his job wouldn't be fucking done. A million pegs, and he was just one.

"Your powers haven't reached their potential. You have yet to master merging them. That is what you must work on until the day comes to resurrect the Warp and kill her."

Lovino nodded. "I will work on my powers." He couldn't promise he could succeed in anything. Not to himself, not to the god. But, he could promise to kill himself trying

A loud sound came from behind him. He turned to find an opening in the wall. A way out. He started walking.

"I will preserve Feliciano's body. When you are ready, he will be here."

One  _Hollow_ at a time. Slow, so slow, no capability to defeat an army. No assurance that Feliciano would survive the resurrection, no assurance that it would be him and not Tzeentch or maybe even Chaos herself, gaining a new body, a new chance. Resurrection wasn't an exact science. It was a game. Entertainment.

Lovino wasn't fucking entertained.

This wasn't a fucking book out to get two god damn people together. There were no happy endings. No dancing in the fucking rain, no coincidence that would win a war and leave only faceless people to die. That wasn't real life; but this was.

"Eurydice should have stayed dead," he said, no motivation to turn, no motivation to mourn the kid any longer.

He kept walking.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_This chapter is longer than usual, sorry, but I wanted to get all this information in ONE chapter rather than one-and-a-half._

_Guess what! I have moved a couple original novels to AO3 under the psued AC Hodges. I don't know if I will return to writing fanfictions when I return from basic, but I DO know that I will continue writing. So, if you're interested in seeing more of my works, even if they're not for the fandom, maybe check them out. They have pirates_

_Shout-out to_ **2shy2call911** _on AO3 or_ **FebrezedTrash** _on FFNET and her story_ **Engagement of Blades _._** _It's a short itacest (I count it as unrelated cx) in Lovino's POV. It's only, like 2k, but it is wonderfully written and a wonderful read! If you want to see more badass!Feliciano, then go check it out!_

COMMENT! What do you think about the lore of the Golden Mean? How do you think it ties into Feliciano's personality?


	49. Quarante-Neuf

"Arthur," Lovino said, coming out of the cave, shuffling through the thinly breadthed walls once more and into the howling, bitter winds. Arthur was holding his arms at his side, his whole-body damp, locks of blond hair almost brown, weighed down by every droplet.

"Lovino," the Brit sounded a bit shocked. His face was stern, though his face held an amount of sorry that made Lovino want to sigh. A strong gust of wind threatened Lovino's balance. He put up an arm to block the winds, making his way to his teammate.

"You said that the Confraternity were forming a plan against Tzeentch?" he yelled over the howls. They were stronger than before.

He looked confused. "Yes?"

Lovino nodded, wincing past the ice. "I think that the best course of action would be for us to join them."

"What?"

"Let's get—get out of here."

Arthur quickly agreed. The wind and the rain were replaced by the simple warmth of the mine stuck between snowy mountains and forever spring. The orange and browns of the dying middle were quickly apprehended. The lift rattled down. The wait was stifling, and when Arthur put his hand on his earpiece Lovino put his hand up to stop him. He needed to gather his thoughts before he was bombarded with questions.

They walked in silence under an ember ambience. Lovino found himself sinking further into his pockets with every step, and by the time they reached to door to the locker room he shoulders were hunched to his ears and his head was in a million spiraling directions. Arthur entered the room, Lovino help back, away from the door, sucking down deep breaths and replacing words with simple  _ticks_  of numbers.

"You know," a voice said from behind him, "it's okay to mourn."

Lovino shook his head at his mother, his voice steady as he spoke. "I—I can't mourn for him. I can't."

And that was the phrase he repeated again and again, a child crying in his room about things not being  _fair_ , as he wrapped his arms around his mother, staring past her and to the ground. Her sigh was soft and comforting, cordial circles rubbed between his shoulder blades.

"I can't mourn him, Mom." Instead of gaining confidence, as repeated things so often did, his voice cracked with the flashing anxiety in his chest.

"Why not?" she asked lowly. Lovino knew that she wasn't looking for an answer.

Maybe because she knew that the answer was poison on Lovino's tongue, burning like acid, putting holes in the stony countenance he so desperately needed! Maybe because she knew that there were so many other reasons. He was a bundle of inabilities; a plethora of can't's.

He couldn't mourn Feliciano; Feliciano had wanted to die. Who was he to deny the kid what he wanted?

All Lovino had wanted was for the kid to be happy. He couldn't provide comfort. He couldn't save the boy from the nightmares of the battle. All he could do was hold Feliciano's hand as the boy mentally deteriorated into a desperation that could only be solved by fucking dying. Lovino didn't know if that was something to commend or to mock, but he knew that he should fucking hate the boy for it.

But he couldn't.

He couldn't mourn him and he couldn't hate him, so he was forced into a situation between. Nonchalance. For his death and for his actions and for the laugh and smile that put a shield in his hand and a nervousness in his gut. He couldn't care. He didn't care. He shouldn't care.

Fuck him. The stupid fuck. The stupid—fuck.

"I—I can't," he repeated once more before falling into silence, tightening the hug and closing his eyes.

He needed to stand, to walk, to fight and do his fucking job.

He pulled away, leaving his troubles and feelings with his mother. Gentle hands cupped his cheeks and she smiled at him an impossibly sad smile. Her dark hair was darker here, brown eyes muddled under the green light. Careful hands cuffed his cheeks, but no words of comfort were shared between them. Maybe his mother was as bad with words as he was.

Lovino just nodded, hoping she would understand it was his thanks, his relinquish of the topic, before turning and entering the locker room.

"Thought you'd died," Gilbert joked. He was sitting against the wall, his legs spread out in front of him as he fiddled with a can of food.

"You wish," Lovino said back, wondering after the humor or the chuckle that didn't rise.

Ludwig was flipping through something or another. Lovino quickly recognized the cuts and bruises on both brother's faces. His father was joined by his mother, the old man looking at Lovino, trying to read him, no doubt. Arthur had taken to leaning against the wall, a scrutinizing stare falling to his feet.

Lovino sighed. "Gilbert, Ludwig, I need to know about your bioweapon."

It was Gilbert that hummed back. "What do you mean?"

"Feliciano said that he thinks you're developing a bioweapon."

"I'm not," Gilbert denied. "That's all on Lud over there. I've never been too interested in our mother's research."

Calm, why was there so much calm following this topic? Wasn't it serious? Bioweapons were used for mass murder, they had been developing it when they had thought that mass murder could be needed for the resurrection. Was there something that they knew that Lovino didn't?

"Ludwig?" Lovino prompted.

Ludwig sighed and put down what he was reading. He moved without much flare or anger or anything at all. Lovino could see a puffiness around his eyes, a strong indicator that he had fallen into a fit of tears at some time or another. Lovino honestly couldn't imagine the blond ugly-crying. He had been crying when he was screaming at Lovino, but that was fueled by his anger which had been fueled by a feeling of isolation from a group that was considering a death irrelevant. But—But the tears that would cause the mudded red of scrubbed cheeks, taken to the temple, couldn't have been a continuation of that anger. That anger was too shallow; for Ludwig, anyway. Lovino had never seen an anger so great in the blond. It was always snuffed out by logic or disassociation of some type.

Why was Lovino considering this in such fucking detail? He needed to focus.

"Do you know what happened to Feliciano's body?" Ludwig asked.

Lovino blinked. Right. "Yeah, Anubis has it. He said that he'd preserve it."

There was a quiet that followed that. A quiet of Lovino's head, most notably. The question was coming, and there was something anxious that sat on his tongue.

A lie.

"Preserve it for what?'

A lie.

A lie.

A fucking lie.

Lovino fished out the two stones. "Anubis is convinced that we can revive him. He says that it—" Lovino cut off and shook his head. He needed to remember to breathe during these things. What an idiot. "He says that Tzeentch plans to storm the Order whether or not she has the opportunity to resurrect the Warp, and he says that even when she's gone the army won't stop."

"He wants to revive Feliciano to use him as a weapon," Gilbert said from his place, no lifting question. It was a simple observation.

Lovino nodded. "Yeah, he does. It's not a good idea. To revive Feliciano, we would first have to revive the Warp, and we can't take that chance."

"I agree," Gilbert hummed with a grunt, standing from his place. "What do you want to know about the bioweapon?"

"What's it for?"

"It's not to kill, if that's what you're thinking. Luddy wouldn't let me look into that part of—didn't you destroy those notes?"

Ludwig was frowning downwards. His tone was monotone, though was that any different than before? "I couldn't trust you not to use it."

Gilbert dismissed him easily. "Whatever. The bioweapon targets gods and those alike that are able to manipulate energy to the point of a power. Smooth your feathers, Arthur."

"That is  _beyond_  against the rules!" the British man exclaimed.

"I was never looking for brownie points," Gilbert mocked back.

"Target, do you mean that you were trying to disable this ability, by any chance?"

Gilbert looked him over. "Are you asking about it because you're wanting to use it, or because you want to understand it?"

"Was there anyone else working on a project like this? Is there anyway that this research could have been developed and completed by someone else already?"

There was a long pause. "Mom had a few research partners, yeah."

"I think that Tzeentch has figured it out—or, at least, she discovered someone's work that did. Anubis warned me that the gods will have no role in the war because they are afraid of dying."

Gilbert snorted. "Yeah, sounds like them."

"But, this weapon affects more than just gods?"

"Yeah, it would strip everyone of their  _magic_. Magic is only a unique manipulation of energy that science hasn't discovered yet."

"Arthur," the Brit was a cross between anger and confusion and discomfort as Lovino called him out, "we need to report to your people."

"My people?" he demanded.

"Yes. I—We're not going to be able to do anything on our own. We need to get this information to the Confraternity so that they can better prepare."

Arthur shook his head. "They'll never believe it."

Gilbert was laughing again. "And why won't they believe it? Not everyone is so trusting that everyone will follow the rules as you are, Artie."

Arthur shot him a glare. "My distrust in you has nothing to do with it."

"Distrust?" Gilbert cooed. "Our relationship is evolving!"

"Gilbert, stop being a douche," Ludwig snapped.

Gilbert just smirked. "I'm sorry, everything is just so—"

"Yeah," Lovino dismissed, not bothering to look at the albino or give him time to find his adjective. "I don't care if they believe us. We can't risk not telling them. How are they going to be able to put together a good defensive if they don't know what's coming?"

Arthur frowned. "What exactly is coming?"

"An army of Neverborns and creatures of the void, whatever that means."

"More than just  _Hollows_!"

Lovino blinked. "What else is there?"

"Are you sure he said that and not just  _Hollows_? That he said void?"

"Yeah. What the hell is your—"

"Do you think that she's figured out how to let the  _Latkins_  out?" Ludwig asked Arthur.

"No, no," Arthur attempted to dismiss, "no, that's not possible. She would have to be a god to get in. It's—It's impossible. She's probably just figured out how to convince the  _Burks_."

" _Latkins, Burks, Hollows_ ," Lovino drew, "what are talking about right now? What exactly are creatures of the void?"

"Humans are created in the image of the Warp. The creatures of the void are those that were created in the image of the First. The first god created. They're powerful because they're not balanced at all.  _Hollows_  are nothing,  _Burks_  care for nothing, and  _Latkins_  are everything. They all, however, need other things to live. They manipulate energy levels of living things to fit what they require, as you have seen a  _Hollow_  do."

Lovino nodded. "What makes a  _Latkin_  so dangerous?"

"The energy that they need can only be secured through killing the host. A  _Hollow_  strives on depression and despair, but they don't  _kill_  their victims. The  _Latkins_  will murder everything in their path to grow stronger. So, they were locked away in a world all their own, like the Neverworld, so that they couldn't travel and kill everything created."

"What?" Lovino demanded. "You think that she might have something like that—" he shook his head. "We really need to get to the Confraternity, Arthur."

Arthur nodded hesitantly. "Yes, but you can't go. They'll kill you."

Shaking his head, Lovino moved from his place at the door to gather supplies. "I don't care. I want to join the fight and I want to help. I'm insignificant on my own, so I'm going to at least try."

"You want to fight on their side?" Gilbert asked.

Lovino emptied out a bag and moved to the lockers to look for texts of relevancies.

Ludwig stood to help. "Gilbert, we're on their side whether we're conspiring with or without them," he muttered. "It you're in such a rush to work then sitting around here won't do us any good."

Gilbert sputtered out a line of perturbed mumbles. "I don't want to be under fucking orders again."

"It's the only way to effectively organize a single group to a single goal," Ludwig continued.

Lovino blinked over at him, sizing up the blond that frowned into everything he was doing, before continuing with what he was doing. Finally finding the text on the resurrection stone, Feliciano's messy, tired writing burning into his palm as he stuffed the paper into his bag.

"You weren't a doctor," he said, bitter and low, under his breath. "There's no excuse why your writing makes you out to be one."

* * *

The bag was heavy, but thankfully there was a strap that buckled around his chest to keep it stable as he walked. His parents were still in the breakroom though he wasn't sure if it was exactly needed. Gilbert insisted they stay. It would assure that they weren't used as a distraction. "Are we ready?" Lovino asked.

"Yeah," Arthur said to him. "I can't promise that coordinates haven't changed, though. You'll have to keep yourselves open for an ambush." Lovino nodded. Arthur paused, collecting something within himself, before plugging in the code and whitewashing the world.

Lovino didn't know how long the Confraternity had been an establishment, but he was sure that the amount of time that it took to get all of their group on the ground, zapping and burning cuffs hugging around their wrists and necks, was a personal record. He would have appreciated it more, but considering the circumstances his head appealed to the literal lightning digging at his skin instead.

The lot were picked up to their feet, blinded, and pushed into a march. Gilbert said something, but a dull thud cut him off. No one else spoke the whole way.

"Sir! The intruders."

"What the hell is this?" a familiar voice demanded. Lovino was pushed to his knees, in a sort of bow. He held back hisses, blisters forming and popping the longer the cuffs held. He wondered that, if they were left on long enough, his hands would be burned off, freeing him.

Something to consider later. For now, his energy was put to pushing his armor down.

"Arthur, stand!" Shuffling. "What is the point of you being with these men? You were positioned in Amellian, why are you here?"

"I was given orders to find and assist this group."

"What superior gave you these orders?"

"Anubis, the god of the Afterlife, sir."

"Anu—" she cut herself off momentarily before continuing. "Under what circumstances had you in the company of the god of the Afterlife?"

"I was beckoned from my post, sir."

"By the god himself?"

"Yes, sir."

"What exactly were your orders?"

"My orders were to find and assist this group in their fight against Tzeentch. There is a conspiracy to resurrect the Warp and my duty was to help these fo—three stop her."

"These three are not a part of the conspiracy?"

"No, sir."

There was a short pause. Lovino's jaw was going to break from the pressure he was putting on it. Suddenly, the blistering energy stopped, and somehow so did the smart of the burn. Lovino was released and his blindfold was removed. He blinked up at Rei, the woman that they had met at base. She wore a dark blue uniform, her posture perfect with her hands folded behind her back and her gaze impossibly studious. Perhaps bordering dubious. The solders behind Lovino did not move, securities.

Behind them seemed to be a camp. Strange tents were strung up, but they were nothing that Lovino had ever seen before. Perhaps it was the strange fabric that, once stared directly at, disappeared and became nothing but it's surroundings, or maybe it was the way that there seemed to be a dome of energy around each one that reminded Lovino of his own shield. There were two lines of them, stretching out and around, and there were multiple car-like vehicles that had sputtered to a stop in front of tents or beside them, harnessing machinery and artillery and people.

"You two," Rei snapped, boots picking up dust before being planted, her gaze pointed towards Ludwig and Gilbert. "Stand up and explain yourselves."

Both stood, only Ludwig spoke.

"We were not under order to protect the descendent, but we believed in his innocence and assisted him—sir."

"Did you know of this conspiracy before you left?"

"No, sir."

"Then of what did you believe he was innocent of?"

There was an awkward paused, but Ludwig didn't let the hesitation meet his features. He was stone, and his thoughts were gathered before he made a single sound. "We believed him to be under scrutiny for the fluctuations of the String. We knew that he was not and sought an answer beyond the order of the court."

"You are not in jurisdiction to make decisions like that!" Rei practically screamed, her posture never moving, her chin high and strong, though her gaze did lower to the blond.

Ludwig looked straight ahead, at her, at nothing, his gaze never faltered. "Yes, sir."

"You—" Lovino found himself targeted. "Stand." Lovino followed orders quickly, mimicking Ludwig's professionalism. "State your case."

Lovino took a moment longer than needed, but he wasn't exactly sure what part of it she wanted. The explanation for him running, the information that he had found out, his involvement in Tzeentch's plan? "I have information for you and your troops from Anubis," was what he decided to leave it at.

"Were you ordered to arrive here with this information?"

"No."

"Sir."

"No, sir," Lovino corrected quickly.

"Then why are you here?"

"It is believed that Tzeenth has targeted the Order. I wish to—"

"I do not care for wishes," Rei ripped out, her voice a beacon of order and domination. "Take these four and detain them. Hopkins, come with me. The rest of you stand guard until I have returned."

A symphony of "Yes, sir"s followed after her as a woman pushed passed Lovino to follow her step physically. Lovino recognized that everyone, not only Rei, were dawned in blue pressed uniforms, golden trim at the shoulders but a very bleak black following down their sides. He couldn't help but frown after the thought. This really was some stupid war, wasn't it?

Lovino was nudged forward. He walked.

* * *

"They don't have any guards stationed," Lovino observed slowly. They had been dumped off in one of the tents, furnished with little but a bench and a single, naked table, not even stripped of their belongings. He could see outside by an open flap. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"The dome has been enchanted to kill anyone who leaves," Arthur explained.

Gilbert was up and walking around. All were up but Arthur, though Gilbert was the only one that dared to walk so near the edge of the tent that he chanced disturbing the fabric. "You know, science has figured out this little enchantment," he was saying; boasting, perhaps.

"Yes, as I'm sure is bloody relevant," Arthur bit back.

Gilbert turned, a mocking grin, but wasn't able to respond with whatever was on his tongue before Rei, accompanied by two others, one Lovino recognizing as Hopkins the other a loss, stalked into the tent. Lovino was quick to fix his posture, his hands finding the sides of his thighs.

Lovino found himself apprehended. Rei got close, her eyes a stippling glare. "How do I know I can trust you?" she demanded fiercely.

He didn't hesitate. "You can't."

"Then what is the point of you coming here."

"There's no use in not trying."

"Do you have a death wish?" she inquired austerely.

Lovino swallowed his smirk, keeping his features as blank as he had seen Ludwig's. "My life doesn't matter when all life is on the line," he said smoothly, finding the words something of a poetic line, a farce in his head but never leaving the realm of truth.

"So, yes."

"Yes, sir."

"You know how to fight?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you willing to fight for the Confraternity?"

"Yes, sir."

"What are your boundaries."

"I have none, sir."

"Good," she moved back, her glare gleaming to the others. "Do any of you have qualms with becoming soldiers for the Confraternity." No one did. Gilbert held his tongue, his face blank, Arthur had stood. "Starting now all of you will be under my command. Except you, Kirkland. You will return to your post and will not leave without proper order from a Confraternity superior. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You may leave; Jenkins will assist you in travel to explain the situation."

He bowed his head in a tight nod, "yes, sir," before walking and following the man with the tanned skin and heavy stubble that Lovino had not recognized.

"I want you three to explain everything that you have been told," Rei said, unbuttoning the bottom of her uniform as she sat, crossing a leg over the other. "But first, where is the other kid that you were traveling with? Mr. Varmint."

Again, Lovino did not take time to consider his response. "He's dead." Perhaps his tone was too light, too forward.

He was sick of feeling that saying things aloud made them  _realer_.

"How?"

"His heart was absorbed by the resurrection stone Tzeentch wishes to use to revive the Warp."

Rei nodded. "Condolences for your loss."

"Thank you, sir," Lovino said blankly, staring ahead.

"Now, let's get into business."

* * *

The two stones had been placed on the table. Lovino had shed his bag and was standing with his eyes downcast as the silence of ponderings happened about them. Everything sat on the table with those stones, and Lovino feared that if he stared too long more would be added to the pile of shit he had gotten himself into.

"The plan must be to storm separate gods, or perhaps the main base," Rei was muttering to herself, shaking her head.

"If they were to storm the base they would have the String and the only point that connects all gods," Gilbert agreed lowly, leaning his hip against the table with his arms crossed and his eyes on his feet. It was a popular stance. He sighed, scratching his forehead. "The only problem is that there's no telling  _when_  she'll act."

"That's far from the only problem, Beilschmidt," Rei snapped. "If the theory of her targeting the  _Latkins_ is true, this could be a much bigger issue then just guarding the base. She may try to over power us, or she may set her army free everywhere but where we expect her. We cannot protect every world at once. We do not have the resources or the manpower."

"Then have your gods save you," Gilbert mocked harshly, following an outward foot and pushing himself from the tabletop.

Rei stood, slamming her palms face-down on the table. "You will not disrespect me, soldier!" she screamed.

"We might be able to bait her into one spot," Ludwig said calmly from his place near the doorway. "She may be planning to release the  _Latkins_  once she becomes the Warp. So, we can use the stone to our advantage."

Rei's fingers tensed against the tabletop, but she soon calmed and the tension that brought her shoulders to her ears calmed. "Yes, yes," she muttered, reclaiming her seat.

"What do we do about her until then?" Lovino asked. "Is there anyway to close-off the Neverworld so that she stops gathering allies from there?"

Rei spoke past laced fingers that were pressed to her lips. "Yes, that will be the first step will be forced to take. Though, the only way to do that would be to get a god to agree to participate."

"Anubis," Lovino offered.

"Yes, hopefully." Rei sighed, moving to press her head against her hands as she continued, speaking into the table with her eyes shut. "The question of resurrectiong your friend, however—"

"No," Lovino refused, adding a quick, much less harsh "sir. It's not a good idea. It's risking too much."

"Yes, I understand," she said to the wood, "but it may also be necessary."

Lovino set his jaw and raised his chin. "No disrespect, sir, but no. Get a team together to figure out and develop a weapon that can mimic the abilities possessed by a Golden Mean and a descendent. I will not participate in the revival of Fe—him. The stone will not be used and, after this war, you can discover a way to destroy it without resurrecting the god or you will bury it. I don't care."

Rei finally rose her gaze to him. She studied him for a long moment before she spoke. "I understand," she said. Drawing a deep breath she stood, buttoning the bottom of her uniform. "You will train to develop your powers, Mr. Gaspari. Gilbert, you will lead the team, Ludwig, follow me. Hopkins," she turned to the woman who had stood with her hands behind her back and a straight face the whole time, "introduce Gaspari to Alin."

"Yes, ma'am," Hopkins agreed.

"Good," Rei turned back to them. "You will report to me personally periodically. Information passed here will not leave this tent, do you understand? Good." She nodded towards Lovino as she picked up the stones, securing them. "Best of luck," and then she was gone, Ludwig following.

Lovino frowned, watching after her and feeling she had taken everything he owned, leaving him naked and afraid and alone.

"Gaspari," Hopkins prompted.

He blinked, picking up his bag and offering it to Gilbert. "Yes, of course," he turned to follow the woman out. "Gilbert," he called, hesitating at the entrance.

"I understand," was all the albino said. No humor or mockery or existential chuckles or forced condolences for comfort. It was—it just  _was_.

"Thank you."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_I want my babies to go back to being babies, fuuuuckkk._

_Fun fact, the 'lie' on Lovino's tongue could mean that he doesn't believe in what Anubis is saying, but it could also mean that he was considering lying to them. I fucking love this story._

COMMENT! What is your favorite movie to watch around Halloween time? HAPPY SPOOP MONTH


	50. Cinquante

"What do you live for?"

"To die!"

It was a simple chant, holding a comfortable ring that soothed the blankness of Lovino's mind despite the bulked way it all came together, the lazy beat that didn't fit or flow. Today's training-well, rather, this training session, as it seemed that even through military procedures they had yet to develop a form of convenient time management, or time at all—was a joint PT session, so Lovino stood rigid, eyes forward and breathing quiet, pressed into a line of all the other men and women that had volunteered for the front line. Alin—offhandedly known among recruits as the Undertaker for his common place amongst these front-liners, and known so notoriously for his chants that didn't beat around the bush of patriarchy, if that's what one would even call it—paced before them, a dangerous gleam bouncing off redder-than-brown hair as if her were some idol that even the suns above them recognized as important.

They had fallen into the rocky terrain of the world to train today, leaving the tents and vehicles miles away for an on-foot marched jog, bags of rocks on their backs that strained the muscles in Lovino's neck painfully. He didn't dare complain despite his head throbbing like no other. He would survive. If not, then so be it.

Glass in kraut, god's will, fucking whatever. He would survive or he fucking wouldn't.

Three suns orbited one another above them. The heat was excruciating. Lovino didn't blink past the sweat that drabbled into his eyes, though. The light touches of running water was almost reassuring.

"Kokesh, lead the way back to camp. Gaspari, stay put."

So, Lovino did. Not a single muscle strained as he waited, staring forever forward.

There was a silent ambiance to Alin. When he was speaking he was demanding and strong, though a little pulled back, a second option always on his mind, sitting like a stone gargoyle that weighed down his tongue, his words a styled beauty that never ceased to question what aesthetics were needed and what ones were lost to a passing fancy; but, when he wasn't speaking, when he was silent, he was a smoothed stillness that sat back and simply existed to observe and better understand; better order.

Lovino's silence came with a stillness that existed to wait for the stacking order, so they got along fine.

"Sequence three," Alin said. He stepped back, allowing Lovino to gather his energy and spread his feet into a balanced, powerful stance. He would be silent until Lovino was done, or until he screwed up.

Lovino played through the motions. A flick and a conjuring, a conscious carefulness regarding his clothing as, once before, he had torn the strap of his bag and for punishment been forced to carry the backpack at arm's distance in front of him the whole way back. The invisible muscles of his energy were put to use. Despair, Ambition, Life, Anger. They mixed and churned in the order that was demanded him. New weapons, new shields, new abilities. The sequence ended with a projectile that he shot at a mountainous boulder. The shot, a small, black dot, hit the boulder before expanding and crushing the monstrous rock into its purest base, energy, before rocketing back and sinking into the back of Lovino's hand. Lovino balled his fist, breathing violently through the nose as his body accepted the shot. Tension exited his mouth.

"Sequence eight."

And so the dance continued.

* * *

The poking and prodding of the different scientific teams, most notably Gilbert's, was getting irritable. Lovino sat back in his chair, staring at the foot that crossed over his knee. Gilbert's team was built of possibly the most annoying people he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. They asked the same question thirteen different times, they didn't understand personal space, and there was something about the way they looked at him that made him want to up and walk away. He couldn't place it. Really, he didn't care to.

"Okay, but how—"

A man came into the tent, raising the flap above his head, stony features and stony eyes. "Dr. Miles."

The boy that had been questioning Lovino nodded and stood with a squeaked "sir!"

Lovino swallowed a silent sigh, resting his cheek on his knuckles as he waited. His resting periods really should be spent doing that rather than being bombarded with all of this.

"Gaspari, follow me."

Lovino didn't question it as he stood, swiping down his thighs before buttoning the bottom button to the blue uniform he wore. Every time he did it he was forced to wonder why the uniforms took after a suit more than it did something practical. A power move? Unity through visual defiance? Or perhaps visual defiance through unity?

He couldn't bring himself to care once the brass was secured through the fabric; the question never reached the air.

They switched tents. A common procedure around here. Tents and backs of vehicles and jogging into the middle of nowhere. It was a dull, circling existence.

A committee had been gathered and Lovino knew right away what was happening. The last time he had been called in was to inform him that his parents had been relocated under the watch of some director or, whatever. Now, however, the group was made up of more important people going by the decorations they carried on their shoulders, as well as the familiar faces of the blond brothers. Lovino shared a quant nod with them. Gilbert wore his perpetually humored expression, something of mischief swimming behind an albino ferret's glare, ready to steal the second observant eyes were no longer on him, ready to scratch out said eyes if it took too long. Ludwig took on a more humbled expression. If humbled possibly meant blank. Set jaw, tight lips, practiced movements. Even his breathing was controlled and calculated.

A large map was stretched out on the table in the middle of the room. Actually, a large map made of smaller, more detailed maps, lay sprawled across the wood. Bags and other ornaments of possession were scattered about, men and women tense as they waited to begin. Rei was there.

Lovino took the seat he was ordered to take.

Alin was the last to join them. Coming in like a ghost, sitting like a leaf, eyes wide and squinted at the same time as he simply absorbed.

"Our practice run worked."

"The troop from Mazen was attacked?"

"Yes."

"What was the casualty count?"

"That doesn't matter now. An official statement will be published at the end of this."

"This would be the sixth attack on our troops. Do we have enough men to continue this battle?"

"Absolutely. Those in danger areas are only there as diversion from the main troops. We have more than enough men to fight."

"How can you count on her falling for the same trick twice?"

"It is not. The last one was to only assure communication. There was no mention of the stone or the descendent."

"What is the count on the Neverborns and  _Hollows_?"

"Inconclusive."

"Are there any other creatures fighting at her side?"

"My troops are prepared for anything."

"As are mine."

"But that still—"

"We do not have the luxury of figuring everything out, Johnsons. The next troop she may attack may be important. Do you want our men to die fighting for an end or protecting a maybe?"

"We will move out immediately and join up with Amellian and Cration forces to defend the base. The descendent will be the one to lead the first line, followed by—"

Lovino let the slightest question be asked by a flickering of an eyelid. Lead? He had no status or post to  _lead_  anything. Not a line, not a single man, not even himself. He shot a side-glance towards Alin who sat together as ever. Was this his doing? Or was it presenting the prize before the challenge? A play.

Whatever. Lovino would be the first fucking pawn, opening the way for those that held actual power. For the knights and the bishops and the rooks. Little did he know that he only moved to grovel before the queen. Pawns didn't become kings, even if they lived to see the other side, so how the fuck was he supposed to know what the fucking rook had up his sleeve? How the fuck was he supposed to know that the pieces were scattered from the start? That power didn't move according to the rules, but according to the wind, and that sometimes it was the players that harnessed control over the fucking weather.

Oh yeah. He wasn't.

That made sense.

"Backup forces have already been sent to danger zones, and it won't be long until she catches on. We need to move now."

"Communication routes have been secured?"

"Yes," Gilbert intervened. "Everything is working out perfectly."

"Don't be so cocky. Nothing had even happened yet."

The albino didn't respond with words. Lovino could help but rake a look across the heavy, red scrubbed eyes, fatigued yet still glowing so harshly with satisfaction and defiance. He sat back, only slightly, but the movement caused an earthquake in his superiors.

He had them under his thumb.

How?

They rattled off their movements, they muttered about the men that would die without the harshness of reality but rather a muse of consideration, they shuffled and glared and bit at one another until the leader of the pack would throw their hand down. They did a lot. Lovino waited.

Finally, they were ordered to move. Lovino stood and followed the line out. Sighing he packed, sighing he threw his stuff on his back, sighing he left shared quarters to standby until time was ready to go. Food was given out and Lovino took his portion, giving little mind to what he ate. The shufflings and talking of the people irritated Lovino, so he found himself off alone, eating with a pace, eating with the blankness that came with watching feet and heavy limbs.

"Lovino—"

Lovino blinked up, straightening and stopping his stride. "Sir," he muttered, bread pressed against his thigh.

Ludwig shook his head with a murmur of something. "Do relax."

Lovino frowned, looking the blond over. Here they were alone, a shadow cast by the enormous rocks. Lovino hummed, continuing his walk towards the old ally who's back sat against the stone. His uniform was creased and unbuttoned, and he stared into his hands. The stony complexion of the meeting did not find him here. It seemed that he may have given it a slip around some corner. Lovino sat next to him, curling into his knees with a groan and taking an obnoxious bite of his food. The slight fervor of his actions quickly snuffed themselves out and, with a heavy exhale, Lovino sunk into his posture, elbows digging into his thighs as his head hung between his knees.

"This is all fucked," he decided lowly.

Ludwig offered him a light, ironic chuckle. "Yeah, it is."

"I don't fucking get it," Lovino admitted, somewhere between quietly and in a growl. "What is their plan? Why are they jumping into this like they are? They don't consider the lives of their fucking fighters."

"Everyone is disposable," was all that Ludwig shared.

Lovino shook his head. "You sound like your fucking brother."

"Yeah, I guess I do."

The blond moved to get up, but Lovino kept talking. "Don't go thinking that he didn't love you just as much as me," Lovino decided conclusively. "He never stopped wearing that damned cross, and I'd be lucky if he wasn't telling me how fucking great you were all the time." Lovino rolled his eyes, but there was no bite, he didn't even raise his head enough for the other to see it. "Ludwig: always such a great guy. Helping heal shit, helping him get stronger in battle, working day-and-night on the fucking case. It—Feliciano held you on some fucking podium in his head."

"Nevertheless, you won."

The words cut through the air and the heat, sharpened by the monotonous mutterings of a man that had decided he knew the makings of mankind. Lovino couldn't help but smile derisively at that "That kid was no fucking prize. If your idea of being with him after all this shit was said and done was being together always, a stable home and happy life, then you were wrong. Feliciano—he loves too many people. His goal in life is to love the whole god damn fucking world, I think. The trick with him is…just appreciating the time he offers, I guess." Lovino let one of his feet fall, an arm resting on the opposite knee. He hated this, he hated talking about this, but in the end it was what it fucking was. "I don't fucking know, just—after this all  _is_  done, don't be a god damn stranger."

There was a lapse of silence from the other end. The blond sighed and finished his motions to stand.

"Your brother may be a lunatic, but he was right," Lovino shot out after him. "It's great to think about dying in this battle, but there has to be something after if we don't. Feliciano's sacrifice will certainly be misused if we decide going into this that we're going to die. We have to win, and therefore there's going to be something  _else_." Lovino was rambling, he knew that he was. It was comfortable. Not because of the company he took or the way every word decided itself, but just the fact that here his thoughts existed on their own. No order.

Unfortunately, free thoughts always found Feliciano and a false sense of meaning.

He rested his head on the boulder behind him. "Your brother is going to go fucking skiing, maybe think about that."

Ludwig paused. "He's using his trip, huh," the words were meant to be private, maybe Ludwig was as lost in his head as Lovino was.

Lovino still responded. "His trip?"

Ludwig smoothed out his uniform, securing his hands in his pockets and looking upwards. "Yeah," he blew. "Our parents were always weary of dying, so they set up a single time on the string that Gilbert and I could go to and meet them just in case they didn't live to see us as adults. Some skiing trip. I guess Gilbert has finally decided to take it."

"Have you?"

"No. I'd rather keep the image of the brilliant inventors that fought crime pure in my head. There's no use in ruining the idea of strangers."

He was walking away. Lovino stared after him. He couldn't put his finger on Ludwig. Perhaps that's why Feliciano liked him so much. He was a mystery. Of course, maybe Feliciano liked him so much because he was an idealist. Not like Gilbert with fucked to hell morals, but realistic in the way of minor personal securities.

Lovino let himself sigh once more before standing and dusting himself off. He threw the remainder of his bread to the ground.

* * *

"Well, I'm glad your constant bothering was put to good fucking use," Lovino muttered, taking the helmet that Gilbert offered him. "How'd you make so many, though?"

"Once we figured it out we sent the tested prototype down to be mass-produced. There aren't enough for all the men, but there are enough that we shouldn't have to be worried about a civil war tearing us apart—Hey, Arthur!" Gilbert raised his hand. Turning, Lovino found the dotted Brit in his uniform, a helmet against his hip. He made his way over to them with a nod. "Heard you're in charge of your own team."

"If charge is what one would call it in on a field like this," Arthur sighed. "It's going to be a massacre. This is a human's game."

Gilbert laughed. "Go tell your superiors that one."

"You guys don't have many wars?" Lovino asked.

"None at all. If there is a threat to the Confraternity or the Order the gods will usually take care of it. Disorder to this extreme is unheard of."

Gilbert hummed, "I don't think they tell you everything, Artie."

"What the bloody hell are you going on about?"

The albino just shrugged and twisted away. "Gotta go. You two place nice, alright?" The hissing titter was quickly eaten by the sea of the chattering men and women waiting to die.

Lovino sighed, examining his helmet curiously. "They never even tested it with me," he muttered, "how the hell are they so confident that it'll work?"

"I heard that you're one of the leaders for the frontline," Arthur said quietly. His green eyes were still as he studied the brunet.

Lovino nodded. "Yeah. Not really sure why; though I'm not really sure  _leading_  a frontline means shit in this."

They stood on a large field that was cut off on all sides by mountain terrain. The base had relocated to be tucked into the barren grounds behind them, heavy spells cast to keep it hidden and inaccessible. There was only one way to get there by foot, and that was to climb the steep hill that entered the mouth of their field. Likely the battle would clash on the hill or below. Lovino could see for miles when staring outward, but blinked away, shaking his head lightly.

"It's for show," Arthur confirmed. "They assume that Tzeentch sees you as the biggest threat, so they put you in the front."

Lovino chuckled. "Get the threat killed off first? Smart."

The Brit was silent. Lovino studied his features, studied the ambiance of the world around them, stared at the stringy grass of the ground below them. The sky was white, no sun, no mood, no stars. It just existed in an existence of its own.

"Gaspari," the sharp call was Rei, and Lovino knew before he even looked over. "Follow me."

Lovino offered Arthur one last nod, recognizing that it may, in fact, be the last time he ever saw the blond Brit, before, with his helmet pressed against his hip and his lips sealed, he followed the woman through the grounds of people. More tents were set up towards the back of the enclosure, but only few, and they all hid a committee or another.

"Where are the rest of the troops?"

"Backup has made it to Gurxies."

"Who is in charge of this branch?"

They blinked past the biting commands and inquiries and into a tent. Maps, more maps, Lovino didn't care enough to read them. But his sight was uncomfortably caught by the green stone that sat on top of them. He frowned, fixing his jaw and ignoring the way the stone pulled at him.

Rei moved, plucking the item and holding it in her hand. "I want you to use this." Lovino stared at her. What was he supposed to say? Was he allowed to say anything? "Do not glare at me, soldier."

"Why do you want to resurrect the Warp?"

"So that we can officially destroy her. There is no use putting this mission off and having to worry that one day someone will figure out a way to resurrect her without Tzeentch. We have a way to destroy her. Tzeentch expects you to get close to her, and she might even expect you to have this. So, you will be at the forefront of the army and you will use this."

Lovino shook his head in defiance. "No. There is no telling that she will have the other stone on her. Why would she? So, all I would be doing is resurrecting her and letting her go free."

"She may not, but I am sure that she will not leave it somewhere. We have been tracking her movements and letting her know that we have been. If she does not have it on her person for protection, we can guarantee that it will either be on the field or close by. Your job is to stall her long enough for the search team to find it. Do not speak, soldier. There is a radio in your headset."

"I'm more likely going to die then to be able to stall her!"

"There is a whole army behind you.  _You_  have been named a superior, Lovino Gaspari. Their orders are to make sure your mission goes smoothly."

"Their orders are to die in my place while your search dogs  _hope_  to find something."

Rei's eyes slitted into a glare. "Say it however you'd like, soldier, but these are your orders. If you do not feel that you can successfully do this then I'm sure we can figure something else out."

"No," Lovino bit. It took all of his energy to reach out and grab the fucking rock that held everything he despised and everything he—he let the jagged edges pinch into his skin, noting the energy and the bulkiness of it all. "That won't be necessary."

"I didn't think it would be."

Lovino was not made for this fucking life.

"Anything else, sir?"

"Yes, follow me."

It wasn't long before Lovino stood in a group of men and women. Some of them he recognized because he had trained with them, others wore the same arm band that was on Arthur's uniform, others didn't have a place in Lovino's head because there was nothing to note their notoriety. "Men, standby," Rei demanded. The lot of them fell into position and stared. Rei's hands were stern behind her back as they always were when she gave orders. "You will all be fighting beside the descendent. It is your job to make sure that he doesn't die. Do you all understand?"  _Yes, sir_ s filtered through the air. "Good. You will all be placed on the front lines. Do  _not_  take your eyes off of the descendent, do you understand? Good. You, sir, where is your helmet? I would suggest you get it ready. Word has arrived that we should be getting visitors soon. Good luck to all of you. I have faith you will do your best."

It wasn't long before they were all instructed on the simple formation that they would take. Of course, these things had already been gone over a million times before during training. Everyone had a job to do, a place to be, and despite the grown number and the nervous twitches it became something of an easy shuffle.

Lovino fiddled with his helmet, looking out towards the miles of terrain. He stood just before the dip that would take him and the men and women behind him into battle. The energy as everyone prepared their weapons or their powers was riveting, a heat on his back, a fire on his neck. Before him, however, the energy was worse. The white skies darkened in the distance. Miles away but sucking in the light that was offered. A wandering storm of  _Hollows_  and friends. He blinked away the pounding in his skull.

"Are you ready for this?"

Gilbert. The albino walked up behind him, running pale fingers through paler hair as he stared off beside him.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Lovino admitted with a weariness in his voice that came from battling the headache and the tremor that the stone in his pocket caused.

"Too bad Feliciano's not here," Gilbert said lightly, "after you died I was going to make my move."

Lovino rolled his eyes with a light chuckle. "I don't think you have the capacity to care for anything beyond yourself and your work."

"Ah, you're probably right," the blond laughed. "I've thought about experimenting on Ludwig since we were little, but my grandpa made me promise not to hurt the kid and went into detail what  _his_  definition of hurt meant."

"Even the Beilschmidts can have boundaries?"

"Boring, I know," he agreed. With a sigh he fixed Lovino with a serious gaze. "No matter what happens, know that I'm in your debt."

Lovino furrowed his brows. "For ruining your life?"

He laughed. "Pretty much. I don't know if I would have been able to move without a shove. And now," he looked behind him with a grin. "Well, your shove might have moved a little more than you might have intended, but it is a catalyst for a better future." He sent Lovino a cartoonish thumbs up and smile. "Now all you have to do is promise me you'll stick around long enough to see it."

The army was making quicker advances than what would have been humanly possible. Lovino braced his helmet. "I can't make any promises," he warned.

"Well then lie." Lovino sent him a tick of smile, shaking his head. The albino's thumb retreated into a fist and he offered it, the humor fallen from his face, replaced by something swimming and complicit. "See you on the other side?"

Lovino put on the headgear, the white of the sky becoming tinted. He offered his own fist, stacking it on the other's. "See you on the other side," he lied.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. Also, I forgot to tell you guys a week ago, but my new date is the 11th, so we have 7 days to get out the last 5 chapters! I hope you guys are ready for some twists, some turns, some action, some heartbreak and maybe even bitter-sweet happiness. Because, these next five chapters are a fucking RIDE._

_To all of those that have gotten this far, through all of the god damn mistakes, I commend you and you also confuse the hell out of me. I've glanced over a few chapters and gooooodness. I'm going to be trying to keep those things to a minimum as we go along because there are some scenes in this that need to be perfect for their punch to fucking punch, y'know?_

_We also have a couple shout-outs!_

_First, shout-out to a new writer! We have a new, young itacest writer, you guys. Her handle on_ **AO3** _is_ **HoneyFlareTheDragon** _. Welcome to the platform, kid, and I can't wait to see what you grow into!_

_The second shout-out isn't an itacest writer, more Spamano, but HER WORKS ARE AMAZING? I don't know why she doesn't get more recognition! On_ **FFNET** _her username is_ **Lluvia Di'Noche** _while on_ **AO3** _her user is_ **lluviadinoche** _. I recommend her fic_ **Ashes** _, her most recent story at the time of me writing this. I honestly love her writing, and her Spamano is a version that I can totally get behind! Check her out, seriously! (She also has some Prumano and BTT and others, so, c'mon, guys, just gooooooo)_

COMMENT! Lovino has seen a lot of different characteristics in this fandom. We've seen angry boi, we've seen smart boi, we've seen depressed boi, etc, etc – which version is your favorite and why? (am I asking because we might be doing an Atlantis fic? Who knows)


	51. Cinquante et Un

_We're going to try to get three chapters out today (including this one, so 1:3), so sorry for the quick updates._

* * *

"Lovino, start walking." The voice was staticky. Drawing a breath, he did as he was commanded; a short motion of his arm rather than turning back to explain to the people he led. He didn't know who else had a radio in their helmet; he didn't care to ask.

He shouldered a physical gun on his back, one he knew little about and if it jammed he was shit out of luck, but it was just in case something went wrong, and he was unable to use his powers. He didn't bother calling any version of armor just yet. No need to waste his efforts. The black parade was still far enough out to only pose the threat of fear.

It wouldn't be long until Lovino met the approaching battlers.

* * *

"Behind you!" The scream was only one in the chaos. Lovino, who only knew it was a scream pointed to him by its enhancement of static in his ear, twisted and dipped, a silver dagger plunging itself into a Neverborn's neckless chin before turning into a hook at the other end. He placed a steady hand on what would be the creature's head and, with all his might, pulled.

The hook discovered something of an organ as it re-found Lovino's side, dropping the Neverborn in a pile of ash.

Lovino was disturbed by the lack of blood that found his hands. Here he stood,  _killing_ , yet if one were to take him from the sea and set him up nicely he would look perfectly innocent. Why was he being denied the sickening consequences that came with these things?

A scream. A spray.

There, at least now he was decorated, even if the life was not taken by his own hand. Wiping the spittled splots from his view he pushed his way forward, searching desperately for the energy of Tzeentch.

The world was dark, but the  _Hollows'_  tactics were snuffed out when it came to manipulating people. Lovino could not see their true forms, the ones that he saw at the farm, but he also wasn't devoured by the nothingness that he usually felt when they were near.

"Any sign of Tzeentch?" he demanded, hoping that whatever he said would be picked up.

Alas: "yes! Keep making your way forward."

Damn it, why was he the god damn lead if she was going to hang back?

"How much furt—"

"Watch out!"

Lovino's hand was knocked back, his weapon falling and disappearing before it hit the ground. Lovino twisted and slammed his fist into the creature, but instead of hitting his fist was enveloped in a shimmered black goop that burned like acid. With a bellicose grunt he flicked the projectile into his nondominated hand, pulling the trigger against the substance. Goo was turned to grit as it was decomposed and re-established into its purest form, sinking into the once stuck hand, the pressure of an injection aching through Lovino's veins for a long moment before he was able to exhale and stretch his fingers.

He stood, ready to bite his command once more, but was immediately thrown into action, his duty to the fighter under him taking over as he saw the Neverborn they were fighting slight his movements and take a jab with a twisted, jagged thorn straight for the fighter's neck. Lovino grabbed their wrist and yanked them back, his gun replaced by a shield as the fighter twirled into the dust behind him.

"Stay on your toes, soldier!" he screamed with a low grunt, the creature throwing another strong jab, its power causing Lovino's shield to tremor under the force. In one smooth movement Lovino let go of the woman, stood, and called forth a sword that joined the fight from behind the shield.

Three times sword clashed against thorn before more thorns grew like long spider legs, poised dangerously all along Lovino, gleaming and deadly.

Lovino only took a single moment to sigh before he offered his counter.

A mirror for each limb was produced with a swat of Lovino's hand, like bubbles from a wand. When The thorns attacked the shattering was nothing less than defending, but the screeches of the creature as the mirrors melted down and creeped along the black limbs almost matched it. The silver liguid sunk into the pores and found the creatures heart.

Lovino closed his eyes, tilting his head only slightly as the creature was turned to glass, the energy of its own life the thing that caused the explosion.

He wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, curios as he stared at the glinted black pieces that glittered in the copper concoction. He rolled his eyes, irritated. "How much further forward?"

"Not far. You have to keep her busy, we still haven't located the other stone."

Of course, they hadn't.

He took a moment to assess where his people were. What a joke it was, setting him beside a bunch of people that had never fought a Neverborn and saying that they would keep  _him_  alive. If anything, it was the other way a-fucking-round! He was not going to let any of them die for him. He hadn't cared to learn all their names, but he was sure they wouldn't be faceless; even if now, fighting under the masks of their helmets they were. If they weren't lined up at the end of all this, he would take notice. He wouldn't let them be some fucking disposable fucking cog in this fucking machine of fucked-to-hell.

There was a handful that he didn't spot, but he moved on. Everyone was spread, scattered, if he could see all of them that would mean they weren't doing their job. He spared the woman one final glance. She had rose and with a new fire fought. Lovino moved back into the fight himself (though, he had never left it. Fired thoughts and easy movements).

He couldn't do anything about the advancing  _Hollows_ , and they knew it. They passed him. They passed everyone.

"The  _Hollows_  are making their way towards base," Lovino relayed, his sword catching a high attack and pushing it away. There was no answer, and through the grunts of battle Lovino elaborated. "What are you guys going to do about them?" Again, there was no answer. Lovino screamed, another grumbling energy into dust rather than evidence. "What the fuck are you guys going to do about the fucking  _Hollows_!"

"We're going to gather them and contain them. Anubis created a world, like the  _Latkins_ '."

Lovino hissed, side stepping a close call, a harsh cut in his shoulder resulting from the attack. A sharp burst of energy came from behind him.

"Keep moving, sir," someone said, offering Lovino something of a shove.

Lovino sent them a quick glare, but he didn't snap anything out. No need to. He continued forward.

"Why are these things turning to dust?" he demanded into his headset. "The other Neverborns became stone."

"I can't answer that. Stay focused."

He growled. The battle field wasn't the place to get curios or learn fuck, but something didn't feel right. He didn't know what didn't feel right, though. He had never been put to battle like this. He had never fought a Neverborn that wasn't one of the final four. Still, trepidation licked at his body and caused his mind to start up. Maybe it was the title he had been handed. It gave his head leeway to think.

He was silly if he actually thought that, though. He was as powerless now as he had been before. Maybe that was the issue. Others were following a lie and he was stressed because that lie just sent one of their bodies against his, blood soaking through the two's uniforms as they slid down and into the dirt.

Lovino set his jaw, stepping back, helping the body settle. Dry eyes, easy features. The red stained his uniform black.

He flew up from his crouched position, setting his eyes and his focus.

Fuck, he let one of them die.

Fuck, he failed.

He wasn't going to let it happen again.

His screams turned into growls and barks as he slashed with a wide arm. Again and again, controlled. His sword twisted and came to a dagger when the combat was pressed to close quarters, his shield was developed along his other arm when a beast spat acid at him. He pressed on and fought. He ignored the way the stress blistered around his limbs, constricting his breathing as the world attempted to rattle off and away.

The beast before him screamed and fell and he stabbed it in the back, looking back only to see a soldier armed with the small device Gilbert had created. It must have been Lovino's helmet that kept its effects from flooring him as well.

"Kid, toss me that!" Lovino demanded.

The solder didn't question him. Armed with a pain he knew too well, Lovino pressed on. He needed to keep his powers' use to a minimum. He couldn't go shitting out before he even got to Tzeentch. Before the Warp was resurrected.

"You're advancing on her. Be careful, it looks like she knows."

"Of course, she fucking knows! You put me at the front of the fucking line," Lovino ground back. "How many of these fucking things are there, the String thing?"

"The what?"

"Gilbert's god damn weapon!"

There was a short pause, Lovino resorted to the flooring device and the manufactured gun that hung on his back. It didn't shoot out bullets, but rather a strange green that surrounded the creature's form and closed in with a heat that Lovino had to step back and away from.

Lovino blinked, the ashes beneath him still glowing faintly. "Fuck—" he muttered with a shake of his head, wondering what kind of fucking technology the future had to put toward the last fucking World War.

"There are approximately—"

Lovino stopped listening. He had finally made it to her. It was only a glance at first, long, grey, tattooed limbs and flashing teeth. Lovino made it a point to close the distance between them, stepping over yet another pile of radiant ash. He pointed his device towards her, subplot of having everyone use one all at once to try and take down as many as they could gone and turning into something personal between  _him_  and  _her_.

"Sir—" someone shrieked out, an attack missing Lovino by mere inches thanks to the blast of energy that came from his side. It was one of his people. "Keep your head or you're going to get us all killed!"

How long had he paused? He didn't remember pausing.

No matter. He must continue now.

"I can sense that you have the stone," Tzeentch said, her voice muffled by the cries of battle and the helmet over Lovino's ears. "It's either because you're even more a fool that I first believed or because you have finally come to your senses and decided to help me."

"You're smart enough to know not everything is always black and white," Lovino shot back, knowing his glare would do nothing with the way his helmet kept his features hidden.

"Meaning?"

"I'm an idiot with enough sense to know that you're fucked up."

"Lovino—" his headset croaked, "this isn't the time to—"

"I'm an idiot with enough sense to know that you're never going to get the stone because you're going to be a pile of dust before you even have time to pray to your fucked up Warp."

With a newfound fury Lovino put Gilbert's weapon into action, his body trembling, his mind wanting nothing more but to  _physically_ tear her apart, as he waited for it to work.

She sighed, the motions of her forehead indicating a quirked brow, but no hair there to play along. "Are you going to act on your decliration, or are you counting on your followers to act for you?"

There was a scream from behind him, and Lovino didn't even have to look to know that she had skilled one of his fucking men. The trembling in his limbs, the assurance that he was going to have his revenge on this bastard, turned into tremors of fear and defeat, his eyes going wide and his fingers desperate as they tried again.

"Ho—How?" he stammered out. Sounding, feeling, nothing but the idiot he had assessed himself to be.

Something wacked his hand down, curling around his wrist until he dropped the useless item into the sea below him.

No, no, she could manipulate him with his helmet on. Then why did he stand in a swamp of black? Why did his feet lift oiled waters? Why did the weapon splash into nothingness?

"Dear, please, don't think a little piece of plastic and wires will save you from my influence," she almost laughed. A laugh that was cut off by a sharp cackle of energy hitting her in the side of the face.

Smoke cleared; no damage.

She looked toward the direction of the attack and with one fluid motion of her arm the attacker was lifted and thrown into the sea just before Lovino, helmet gone and face so twisted and grotesque that Lovino almost didn't recognize it.

Almost.

He jumped forward. His body erupted with the fires of his own powers, his vision that would take away her hold of him. He wasn't keen on manipulating, and his training hadn't strengthened those powers much as a few weeks or couple months weren't about to make him strong enough in manipulation to face the queen of it herself. However, without it she was weak. Despair and ambition came together to find truth. It burned and cracked and made him feel like he was going to die, sure, but odds to means and all that fun stuff.

He slashed at her with a sword. She dodged easily, a grace practiced not inherited. She sneered at him as he attacked again and again.

"You're wasting your efforts, boy. Just give me the stone."

He replaced his sword with his gun.

"Keep her preoccupied. We still haven't found the other stone!"

He shot. She fucking dodged. The bullet careened into the ground, sucking in a large chunk before returning to Lovino as a gritted energy of rocks and weeds and ash.

"You're weak without being able to manipulate me!" Lovino ripped back. He had found the upper hand. She was the weakest of the final four because she had no real power. She could only warp others to her whim!

Lovino might have looked past the fact that he stood surrounded by an army of whims.

His attention was quickly torn away from Tzeentch and to an attacking Neverborn. It screeched as it tore at the back of his neck, right where his helmet met his shoulders. He cried out, turning and shooting. A whole army. A whole list of 'wasted energy' as Lovino was forced to slam and elbow and kick just to keep his chin above the tumbling waves of the oiled sea.

The vision of truth was wavering, damn it!

"Lovino, get ready," the static demanded.

"You've found it?"

"Yes!"

Lovino fought to uphold his position. The gun on his back played a role until it ran out of juice and he was rendered to throwing its butt into any part of his opponents that he could find. With the help of the men and women at his side, Lovino found a humility for a team, but he also found something of an opportunity to not get clawed the fuck apart. It was beautiful.

"Lovino! Lovino!" The voice clambered through his helmet, but he could feel the exuberance of its real-life counterpart. Gilbert was at his side, helmet secured and hiding his features, but long pale fingers wrapped around his gun like a snake. A shot. "Lovino, do it. The stone."

"Did they—"

He was cut off by the energy he felt from the other man. Not only had they found it, but Gilbert had it in his possession. Lovino nodded, his place in a squatted position and only rising after Gilbert had shot off his gun. It was easy to find the coward because Lovino had never truly let him out of his sight.

"Tzeentch!" he called. Like him, she had never given him up. She stared at him with black eyes. Lovino set his jaw as he dug the stone out. In a flash it was from his palm and flying toward her.

She caught it. She was not dumb. "You found the reversal."

Lovino shrugged, taking in every piece of her before letting the truth fall. Most notably, the tattoo that shone through, brighter than all the rest. "I can't even defeat you. What's to say that I'm going to be able to defeat the Warp?"

"You're an ass," Gilbert chuckled into his headpiece.

"Use it or don't," Lovino screamed at her, pulling up the first sword of anger and allowing it to wash through with the feeling of life, encrypting the power into something of understanding. It was this weapon that grounded him when he felt the acid of hate bubble in his throat. It was also the weapon that reminded him that his headache was the result of his own idiocy and should be respected in that notion rather than the bitterness of isolation. "Either way your ploy ends here!"

She let off a screech of laughter. An ugly sound that could have grounded the mountain into the beloved dust that was already at their feet.

"You have made a huge mistake, boy!" she laughed. Holding up the stone she seemed to examine it for a long moment. Lovino could have lunged forward and impaled her in the chest then and there. Gilbert held him back with a simple placement of his hand.

"Wait. You can destroy her with this once it's time."

And just like that, with a slight of his hand, the stone of reversal passed from Gilbert to Lovino. Lovino grit his teeth, the exterior of the foreign object hot and dangerous. Perhaps it posed him some sort of threat.

Tzeentch shook her head. The world was paused at her feet; she seemed to pause at the attention. Make them wait. Finally, she moved. "You've made a grave mistake,  _Lovino Gaspari_."

The tattoo that Lovino had taken particular attention to met the stone.

This interaction was different than the times with the other Neverborns, the time with Feliciano. The green glow grew and grew, but never did it fall into the purity of white against gray skin. Her eyes did not burn, but rather her head was thrown back into a twisted, screaming features. Her hands were forced off the stone when the green light found solidify through itself, shooting out in the form of dangerous vines that hit and impaled Tzeentch. The likes of blood twisted and twirled in rivers along the green vines. Tzeentch stopped squirming, a single gurgled gasp spitting blood from the clogged hole in her neck.

Everyone was throw back, a second wave of green light growing louder than any attacker. A sickening crunch crumpled Tzeentch into herself, the vines wrapping and squeezing until veins and limbs popped like animal balloons, until her neck snapped, until she was folded like a piece of paper; her body moaned and cracked. She twisted and folded until all that was left of her was a small point, wrapped around the stone, fondled by dissident thorns.

A great wind had picked up, threatening to re-topple those who had fallen due to the fervor of energy. Lovino was thankful for his helmet. Debris picked up, attacking as fiercely as a warrior themselves. He turned his head. Flinching back, a wondrously large item batting against his helmet, he screamed into his headset: "the helmets didn't work on Tzeentch. I don't think they'll work with the Warp, either."

"That's fine," Gilbert responded. He had stayed low to the ground, avoiding flying objects but never taking his aim from the circus act. "We'll just have to end this before she gets a chance."

The growth was somehow worse than the deconstruction. Once grey limbs now cracked and grew out olive, twisting and popping and pointing up and out of the dirt, towards the darkened sky. Neverborns backed with trepidation.  _Hollows_ continued their march.

With a wicked scream the figure of a woman emerged. Only, it was…off. Her facial features did not fully form, missing cartilage, her head looked dented, and her body, open and naked, seemed to have merged with Tzeentch's clothing just as much as her skin, turning one into the other. When she stood there was a great difficulty to it. She moved like a tight muscle kept her from standing fully, like there was a heavy hump on her back.

Her hand found a deformed breast. "What is wrong?" she coughed out.

Despite the image of a decrepit hag, Lovino could not underestimate this woman. The power he could feel was monstrous.

The stone fell to the ground.

"What's happened?" she screamed. A banshee with cracking bones as she stuttered forward, attempting to straighten out her shoulders.

"The heart you're using isn't yours. You are not complete," Lovino said, taking in the appearance and setting it against the rest of the gods' images. "Do you not remember what you've done?" Lovino demanded, coming forward with his sword in dangerous hand. "Do you not have Tzeentch's memories? What about Nurgles? Khorne? Do you not recall what you've done to get here!"

She took a long moment to stare at him, beady eyes making no attempt to hide the interest in Lovino's sword. "They are in me, screaming and crying out." She put a flat, crooked hand in between her breasts. "I can hear them screaming. They are my power. I can hear them scream."

Was she delusional? No way was this the woman that Anubis had fallen in love with. No way was this the mastermind behind the destruction of the universe; the woman that was forced to tear herself apart.

"I can hear their screams." It was a whisper.

Lovino swallowed, backing away. Something didn't feel right.

"They scream and scream and scream and scream?" She stumbled forward once more. Men and women backed away from her approach; features hidden by helmets, but Lovino was sure their faces showed nothing less than horror.

She circled her small area. The area that was her own in the isolation of queer battery. "They scream and they scream and they scream!" she exonerated. She spread her arms on either side of her. An ugly piece of art, hairless and growing greyer with every second that passed. "THEY DON'T SCREAM ENOUGH!"

The wind was back, a tidal way of beaconing. Lovino got lower, grabbing a fighter as they stumbled forward towards the peaking tornado. He pulled the soldier back. "What's happening?" he demanded.

"We don't know," came the central command.

"It looks like she's trying to gather energy," Gilbert observed, watching as their people shot at the witch only to have the blasts eaten by the wind and twisted into a constant, green flow that the creature—the Warp—hastily absorbed into her body.

Neverborns scrambled up and away, but the wind was too strong. It was those that flew that were sucked in first. Like Lovino's gun, it seemed that they were being turned into their simplest forms and sucked in. Lovino dismally wondered what would happen if he shot at her now, but decided not to risk it.

More and more Neverborns were pulled in. So many, in fact, that soon they stood in a large area with nothing but fighters and  _Hollows_. The  _Hollows_  continued their march.

Slowly, the air dies down. The Warp extended her limbs with a new comfort, her posture straighter, her skin now no longer just skin and fabric, but now patched up with pieces of Neverborns. Black and olive in a swirling mixture. Eyes took to a new color. No longer beady and black, but rather iced and yellow. Her face was covered with the black splotches. A mask.

The tornado was gone, but the next shot that hit her cleared in a burst of smoke. A burst of smoke that came with an eruption of purple light that twisted into a thorn and shot straight into the sky, never coming back down.

She smiled when her features showed once more.

"The—The  _Latkins_! They—Their world-!" The stutterings from his radio filled Lovino with a new dread.

"Let's get this over with, then," Gilbert groaned. Without hesitation he shot. Others followed him. The Warp was pummeled and surrounded.

Nothing worked.

Then, suddenly, a ravenous beast made of blue electricity bounded into the mix, animated jaws biting around the Warp's figure with a mighty growl. The Warp cried out.

Arthur joined at their side. Lovino blinked as the large animal disappeared. "Fuck, you really were going easy on me, weren't you?" he asked lowly with a shake of his head.

"What are you waiting for, Lovino?" Arthur demanded.

Lovino blinked and opened his mouth to respond, but a voice cut him off. "Sequence three should be fine," Alin said with a short nod. Lovino quickly recognized that he did not hold a gun. Rather he seemed to pose himself above the ground, eyes steady, never leaving the Warp.

Lovino nodded his head and prepared his first weapon. "Alright."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_And so it begins! Wonder how all of this will turn out. Will they be able to defeat the Warp in time? What will they do about the_ Latkins _? The_ Hollows _? Stay tuned for next chapter, we're hitting the home stretch and if there's one thing we believe in here it's finishing strong (haha don't cross-check me on that one.)_

COMMENT! What is the spoopiest thing that you have ever read/watched/experienced?


	52. Cinquante-Deux

Lovino bound forward as the creature was recollecting herself from the blast that had taken a chunk of her arm. The wound bled feebly. The attack that he swung was blocked, but the defense was not unexpected and quickly Lovino's sword fell to dust as, in a swung movement, his other hand crashed down. Black energy surrounded his palm and when he pressed it to her skin a popping sizzle was passed between them.

She threw her arm into his chest, flinging him backwards. He landed, the momentum taking him into a spinning roll before a soldier helped stop him. He groaned, picking himself up.

"Surround her!" he yelled. "She's perceptible to pain. If we can hit her with enough power for long enough she'll break!" He wasn't sure how helpful his command was, but it filtered back to him via the radio so he decided it well enough.

Soldiers spread out and around her. A static call demanded the shouts that jumped the woman. Three more shots rang before the Warp pressed back. Roots from her feet tore around, upsetting the dirt as thorns rose and attacked.

Lovino ran forward, prepared to use his shielding mirrors as he had done before, but Alin seemed to have been waiting for just this moment and tore into action. Both his hands pressed against the dirt. Dirt rippled and spread, similar to the movements caused by the roots, long thrilling lines that swirled around the Warp.

"Now, Kirkland!" Alin demanded.

Arthur clapped his hands, throwing them back in a wide motion before sending the whips around himself forward. They twisted and formed together into another large animal.

When the animal's feet touched the path laid by Alin's magic the blue of Arthur's magic mixed with a new, trembling green. It opened its wide mouth and bit, surrounding the Warp's whole figure. Alin's magic exploded then. Large holes were burst into the ground, tearing up the roots, the severed bit writhing and twisting before falling to dust among the rubble.

A large trench now surrounded the witch.

"She's not fighting back," Gilbert said, coming up on Lovino. "This could be our chance. Use the stone."

Lovino looked back, shaking his head slightly. "I don't know. It's strange. Is she really this weak or is it a manipulation?"

There was a short pause from the other man, as well from the radio because no one offered their thoughts on the situation. Lovino took a breath and removed his helmet. Gilbert seemed to hesitate his way. "They don't work," Lovino decided. "If Central says anything you tell me. I don't need to be slowed down."

Gilbert just nodded his head.

Quickly Lovino advanced into the trench. It had been blown to practically his whole height. With the reversal stone in hand, Lovino refound his truth. It was shakier than before, his body tired and his powers reaching the first limit of fatigue, but he didn't stop picking his way through the dust and dirt, making his way towards the island the Warp stood on.

When he made it to the platform, he found himself alone. The smoke cleared and so did everyone else. So was the familiar landscape. He turned around. "What the hell?" She couldn't manipulate him when he was using this. That was the point of it. So what the hell was happening? Where way he?

If it wasn't for the slight change of wind, Lovino would have been caught in the head, but he ducked and the attack took out the ground just in front of him. No longer was there a trench but rather a world of water. He turned to find the Warp, only her body was not so awfully disfigured. Long white locks fell down dark, freckled skin. Like the Neverborns, she had a tattoo, only there was more than one and, like her hair, they shone white. He recognized four of them. The one on her forehead was the symbol of Tzeentch, each solder held a physical power, and her stomach held the tattoo of Despair. The final one, over her left breast, was the symbol of the heart. Lovino called his gun. "What the hell?" he echoed. "How are you manipulating me right now?"

"I am not manipulating you. You are manipulating yourself." She swirled around him, but her body didn't move. Only her energy. Lovino felt a million eyes on himself.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Truth is only perception and want. You wanted to see the real me, so here we are."

"Where exactly is here?"

Everything around them seemed to dip into  _something_  else the longer he looked at it. One moment the sky above him was bright and the world was a twisting of vibrant greens and purples, the next everything was grainy and cold and twisted like a picture of roots. The smells even seemed to change. A hearth's fire, a spring day, a muddied dog. Nothing was set in stone, perhaps nothing was real. "Where—Where are we?" he asked once more, his voice a bit lighter, quieter.

Despite the calamity, here was a strange solace. A strange calm that traipsed along his bodies and his powers, as if instead of standing on a bloodied battlefield he instead was stretched out on a couch, fighting to keep a dancing fever dream of memories and imagination rather than turn around and face reality once more. Even the strain of his powers seemed to be lifted from his body.

Though, of course, he never owned a couch, so bloody battle field was the likelier of the two options.

The Warp didn't bother to move or look as her surroundings bounced and rolled. "We are wherever you've decided to put us."

"If—Are you-you're a part of my imagination. Part of my perception or not, imagination is  _not_  truth." Had he pulled it up wrong? Perhaps he had been manipulated into doing something wrong. Perhaps he had been knocked out and this was all a spitting dream as a concussed head tried to hold onto sanity.

"The creature you fight out there is not me," she said simply, calm features and booming voice. "It is an imitation. Similar parts but there is no way to revive a god once it is gone. Unlike humans, we do not possess proper bodies. Our memories are written in our energies. If any of that energy is destroyed, then the god that once was is permanently destroyed."

Lovino shook his head as the skies above them rolled with a thunderous passion. "Then how are you he—"

"Your ability has asked for the truth about me, so I stand here an animation before you."

"So, you are part of my imagination!"

"I am a part of you."

Lovino turned, the skies dark and booming. The patterns of the very first rain drops began to fall. How was it that  _nothing_  made sense? How was it that he was being fed cheesy lines from himself? "Am I dying?" he demanded.

"No."

"Of course, you would say that if I  _was_  fucking dying." He put a hand on his forehead and fell to his knees. Something touched his shoulder, but when he turned the world was white and the Warp still stood in her original position. Was he sitting comatose on the battlefield right now? Was he someone else's problem right now? A liability? Fuck, he needed to get back, to destroy the Warp—or, the imitation of the Warp.

"I made a mistake by giving up my heart."

Lovino stood with a deep sigh. "So, is this what I'm doing?" he muttered to himself. "Alright, let's get it over with!" He turned back to her with a wide swish of his hand. "Me, he's fucking dead, alright? Mistake of an ancestor or not. Gone, dead, goodbye. We'll mourn him later,  _alright!_ "

"I am not trying to convince you of anything. I am—"

"Look, we don't have time for this!"

The world went black, and when it came to Lovino was on a battlefield. Only, it wasn't  _his_  battlefield. People plated in silver armor ran with spears. Lovino watched on, confused. He flinched when a soldier barreled at him, but soldier and spear both passed through him. Nevertheless, le put a careful hand on his chest where the implation would have occurred. "We wanted to lead, to show beings the way. Perfection and completion—" the voice was coming from behind him. He found the Warp, her figure hazy. "—are not the same thing. We are perfect, but without something to watch, we are not complete." Her hand drifted over the face of a fallen soldier. Her eyes were soft, hazel pinched with every color Lovino had ever known.

"It was humanity I was allowed to claim as my own. Others got the voids and the sorcerers and the creatures of the water or—" she sighed, "but none of them could compare to this. The curiosity and the passion. But I turned my back on them."

A tornado came and whisked the image away. The new one was the entrance to the Afterlife before it twisted into a memory.

Anubis was there, the Warp was there, only it they both were in the forms of purity.

The Warp, the one in the form of her beloved humans, stood behind Lovino with sad eyes. "He watched over all of the dead, but he took great pride in watching over the humans. He took great care." Her voice trailed off softly and they watched on.

_"Please, please do this for me! I cannot continue to watch them die and feel like this! I need to be stronger. This piece of me makes me weak."_

_"No. It will—"_

_"Please!"_

Lovino watched as Anubis gave to the pathetic cry, bent to her whim. He watched as the perfect being before him pulled, a great purple surrounding it. Out of the blackness of all formed legs, formed the curves of the woman that stood behind him now. She practically fell to a knee when she finally severed the purple heart and held it out in her hand.

 _"This is not a Neverborn made in the image of your heart!"_ Anubis sounded horrified.

_"It is my heart. Please…Please destroy it."_

_"You are giving up your godliness!"_

_"I do not care! Give me humanity! Just take it! I can no longer live with this. I will be better without it. Stronger, I need to be stronger. For my people, for the other gods. This—I am not good enough, and it is my heart that makes me weak."_ She reached forward with trembling hands, but she could not touch perfection without being burned. Tears were stinging her eyes.  _"Please, Anubis. Save me and save my people by doing this."_ She hung her head.  _"I cannot go on like this."_

Anubis took the offered gem. Lovino stood there, unable to find a feature, to do anything but stare.

He made the mistake to blink. They fell into another image.

The Warp's figure was alone, her face twisted in a ponderous anger, lit by the candle light.  _"What fools,"_  she ground out to herself.  _"They will pay."_

"I grew relentless without my heart," the Warp said from Lovino's side, her features soft, sad. "I wanted, and nothing could stop me. My head made more sense then they did. Even my despair was not enough to snuff out the ambitions that came with a numb existence. I knew that the other gods were conspiring against me. It made me bitter that they would think me so low, though they were not wrong. No, they weren't."

Lovino frowned over at her. She pressed quaking fingers against the tattoo on her breast, her eyes closed as she meditated over the loss. "Do you have your heart now?" he asked quietly.

When she opened her eyes to look at him, the dark flickering room was gone and replaced by the screaming anguish of a woman tearing herself apart. Lovino stuttered backwards, shocked.

"I do not have anything anymore," the Warp said. "I am nothing now. I no longer exist.  _They_  are the only pieces of me. Them, and you."

The final four were created from torn away limbs. Blood solidified and shot and grew into figures that Lovino had come to know so well. The Order of the gods stood and stared. They spoke, but Lovino did not listen, all he could see was Tzeentch.

The only Neverborn that looked like she knew what was happening. Black eyes already started its scheme. Or, perhaps, the scheme had started before this.

"Does Tzeentch have the memories of being you?"

"I do not know," the Warp admitted quietly. "I cannot know."

"Does this…imitation of you—does it have Tzeentch's memories?"

"I do not know."

Lovino frowned and looked away from the special. Everything returned to white. He walked into the comfortable nothingness.

"I do know that I wanted to control not only humanity, but all life. I turned my back on my people when I decided to discard my passion, for my humility was quickly rewritten by my intelligence. My anger and my will to live were tied in with my ambitions, my reflection was turned on others to my benefit. Without  _understanding_  I was nothing but what I thought myself to be."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Lovino demanded. "How does this help me? What are you trying to convince me of?"

"As I have said, I am not here to convince you of anything. You sought me and my spirit, you sought the truth, so here it stands before you. The question is what you are trying to convince yourself of."

"I have nothing that I wish to—to change. I only wish to defeat this evil before it kills all life!" Lovino insisted. "I do not want to hear about your heart and how you became a monster without it! I had a heart, but I let it die. That's life. I am still human, I am not like you!"

_"You are not like her."_

Anubis had been telling him all along.

"You are right. You were born imperfect, and therefore have learned to grow from your flaws. You have adapted well." She almost seemed to smile smally. "You are human."

"And I have things to do. So—So tell me what I need to know so I can get back! Tell me your plans or your weaknesses. Tell me how to win this, how to protect—" he set his jaw and shook his head. "Keep me from fucking all this up."

"You have the answers. It is up to you to apply them. Never forget your humanity, Lovino."

It was the first time she had used his name. Lovino blinked, and the battlefield returned. He stood on a platform surrounded by dust that hadn't yet settled. How much time had passed? Had none? It didn't matter, because as the dust fell, Lovino stared into a familiar face.

"Alfred—" he choked.

He was still wearing the truth, so unless this was a trick of his own head, then this was real. The man tore forwards and hit. A sheen red surrounded him like a barrier. Lovino jumped away.

He couldn't kill him or else—

If Lovino killed him, then Feliciano might have never been put in this situation. Then this situation may have never happened in the first place! Something of shock ran through Lovino's chest. If Lovino killed this man there might be a handful of cases that went unsolved, but  _this_! It may have never happened! Tzeentch wouldn't have gotten out. The imitation Warp would never have been created. This—If he killed this man—

No. Lovino wasn't about to live his life on wished ifs. There was no telling that this was the only way Tzeentch could have gotten out. There was no telling that Lovino would have never gone into his powers.

Lovino knew what happened  _now_ , and he was so close to a solution he refused to give everything up for a fucking if. It was his job to make out that solution, and saving this fucking detective with the red barrier and dead eyes was his job. He grit his teeth.

"Come at me,  _dickweed_."

Alfred hit with a power that Lovino hadn't imagined him possessing. Of course, his build only sang the story of strength. The barrier around him burned Lovino's skin when it hit; a bubbled blister forming when Lovino pulled away and replaced the truth with his armor. Alfred still stared at him, only his features changed. He did not  _look_  manipulated any longer. Lovino chuckled, running forward for another clashing attack.

Alfred was impossibly quick for his size, hitting and jumping and coming back to hit again. Lovino saw a lot of Feliciano's fighting style in it, and it was a bitter-sweet thing to recognize. Of course, he had fought Feliciano enough times to know the little weaknesses. Most of them were unique to the kid, but Lovino found luck with the fact that Alfred threw his weight with his shoulder when he punched, leaving the smallest golden area for Lovino to dodged and hit.

With the blackness around his palm he pressed it to the back of Alfred's neck, closing his eyes and assessing the energy levels of it all. Alfred writhed and fought under his weight, and was becoming increasingly hard to contain while Lovino was trying to defuse the hot energy around him, but with a large crack Lovino's efforts succeeded.

That didn't mean that the spell over Alfred's mind was over.

The detective twisted and threw Lovino off, grabbing for a gun at his side. Lovino threw up a shield just-in-time to catch the bullet before shoving himself forward and knocking Alfred to the ground. "Snap out of it, damn it!" Lovino screamed. "I don't want to hurt you!"

The sound of a shot riverbated from behind him and suddenly the detective went still. Lovino's breath caught, an explosion of disbelieving thoughts filling his head as he was pulled off of the—

"Tranquilizer," Gilbert said, voice muffled by his helmet. "Can't hurt himself if he's out cold. Don't worry."

Lovino turned to him. "You brought tranqs?"

The albino shrugged and Lovino could imagine the smirk that was playing on his lips. "What can I say? That one Christmas murderer had a good idea carrying that shit around."

"Wait, but we never figured out what she had on her."

" _You_ never did." Gilbert corrected with a laugh. "Don't worry, he'll be fine."

Lovino nodded. "Help me move him and—"

A pair of soldiers appeared. Gilbert gave them the order to take Alfred back to the base and the two were quick to agree. There was a loud ruckus and another bout of dust and smoke rose a few paces off.

Nothing need to be said between them. They both took off in the direction of the magic and screaming woman. Lovino called forth his sword, his chin tipping upwards to find the witch hovering above the ground, great wind holding her there. It seemed that the wind didn't only hold her up, but it also shot out sharp thorns. Lovino hissed, his shoulder thrown back when he was hit, cracking and going through the armor. With a grunt he pulled out the mini arrow. Quickly he refused the armor and shot forward.

His sword was replaced by his gun and he shot, most of his energies put forth to protect his body from the projectiles. His bullet hit, but instead of destroying the piece of imitation that it touched it seemed to be sucked into her. Lovino cursed.

Gilbert shot at her with his own gun, the green energy latching on and around. Another attack administered by Arthur shot forward, but it was growing weaker. Other than the things that she flung it didn't seem that she was  _fighting back_.

"I need to get close to her!" Lovino screamed towards Gilbert.

"No vines to climb this time," Gilbert yelled back. "I'm not sure how close you can get to the cyclone!"

"Gotta try," Lovino dismissed.

He wasn't sure if he could control their position with such strong winds, but Lovino called his mirrors and created his stairs. Rising to even the first one took all of his efforts into not falling off, the blue, stained uniform he wore rustling violently. Practically squatting, he jumped to the next one and held on. His hair was snakes, biting into his eyes as he climbed.

He finally reached her. Shakily he stood, winds taken to bat and swinging at him, all directions, all the time. He fished out the stone that he needed.

The Imitator looked at him with black eyes that shot to the stone the moment it was out.

"I have no tattoos," she seemed to sneer.

Lovino swallowed.

This is what he needed now, to find how to kill her, so hopefully the fucking truth would be of use right now. It only took a split second to blink before sickly olive skin became dark and tattoos glowed around her. Only, they weren't in the right place. The shoulders, the breast, the stomach, these were not the places of the symbols that bound the powers to the body. Instead, they were spread. A thigh, a hand, her back, her neck. The final one her sought was that of the heat, but it was smudged and incomplete, settled directly between her breasts. Lovino blinked the sight away.

There were, in fact, no tattoos, but it at this distance away from her Lovino knew why. His gut twisted upon the realization that this sickly skin was too soft, held no hair whatsoever, almost even weak. She had turned her own skin inside-out to hide the symbols and their place.

Smoking palm and stone, Lovino leapt forward, a mirror appearing in the exact moment he needed. He threw his fist forward. The Imitator caught it, hissing as her skin bubbled under his power. However, it quickly turned around on him, her powers much stronger than his.

Nevertheless, Lovino twisted and grabbed her wrist, noting how the skin was slick under his touch, catching her off guard enough to press the ominous energy of the stone into the back of her hand.

She screamed and the power sent Lovino barreling backwards and out of the sky. He hit the ground with a thud.

It was Arthur that helped him up. The witch still screamed. Lovino could see that her hand was gone, torn to shreds. He scrambled up and towards the tornado, blocking his head with his arm, scramming for the stone. He found it, though not without the list of thorns that stuck up and around his armor. With every moved they scraped and irritated his skin raw.

"She's lost life," Lovino said, coming back to the group. "She might be more dangerous now."

He quickly mapped out where he saw anger. That would be the next power he would snuff out. Then ambition, despair, heart. He would destroy all of her.

The tornado beneath her twisted and turned, carrying her with it as she dipped down to attack. People shot wildly at her, but it did not stop her and her torment. "I will kill you all before they get here!" she screamed.

They were sent running, scattering. Gilbert stuck to Lovino side. "She must be talking about the  _Latkins_ ," Gilbert ground.

"Let's finish this," Lovino decided harshly. The stone in his hand was hot.

With a loud screech the Imitator changed paths, refinding Lovino. Lovino didn't have time to fix his armor, he didn't have time to pull out every arrow, so he instead put his energy towards a mirrored sword. Anger was his enemy, he couldn't attack with violence. He wouldn't fuel her.

The closer he got, the more he was using his weapon as a shield. With every hit the sound of shatterings rose into the air. He caught his moment and he attacked. His sword slashed through the dust, coming to hit her arm. She seemed to have expected this, however, and the black Neverborns that were infused into her skin crawled out and around the weapon, slinking and reaching to Lovino.

Lovino pulled the hilt back as hard as he could. She didn't budge, but he hand't secured his stance so  _he_ did. He tucked his feet into his stomach and used the momentum to kick the woman with all his weight. The Neverborns were like paste, keeping Lovino stuck to his sword. The witch cried out when Lovino fell down, pulling her with him. He continued to tug at his weapon, the Neverborns were at his shoulder now. He swallowed, no feeling in his arm. One last tug loosened the winds around him, and Lovino threw the stone forward, securing it to her thigh.

She screamed and the Neverborns became oil between them. Lovino was lifted before being dropped. He landed on his feet, his double-edged sword falling to ash.

She was missing a hand and a leg. A ragdoll losing their threads.

From the two open wounds, tar spread out and pressed against the winds and to the dirt. Neverborns formed and attacked.

Arthur and Alin were immediately on it, soldiers shot without order, Gilbert flew forward, demanding Lovino drop as a large clawed hand swatted at him from his side, rising up from the sea of goop that now spread over the ground. "Keep it up!" Gilbert screamed at him, reloading.

Lovino nodded and pressed towards the Imitator once more. The waterfall of Neverborns solidified into one string, snapping forward and twisting around Lovino's neck, pulling him off the ground. He kicked his feet, gasping and clawing with his free hand.

The Imitator was using this long string as a new hand, holding him up and watching with dangerously black eyes as he was hanged. Lovino put his hand against the twisted thorn, sending out his own energies, letting them grow into his own elongated shield. With a press of his hand, his shield flew forward, looking to pierce her throat. She caught sight of his plan and threw him to the side. He choked, head dizzy due to the lack of oxygen, head pounding impossibly. He tried again, only this time he pressed the tip of the pointed shield into the hole in her arm. For a split second her powers were cut off, as if Lovino had hit a nerve, and he was let go. Automatically he grabbed and held onto the black extension of the Imitator, gasping as he hung there.

"Lovino!" Gilbert screamed.

Lovino caught on the moment he saw the albino. Without a second thought he threw the stone to him. It turned over itself before being secured by pale fingers.

His second hand free, Lovino continued his climb upward, and when the staff was animated once more he called a mirror and continued his climb again.

He continued his climb while also throwing his powers towards Gilbert.

With a powered fist he threw a heavy punch. She caught it, distracted by his presence and not catching the fact that he did not have the stone. He took advantage of his and, calling an angled mirror behind himself as he was thrown away, bounded forward and punched with the unexpected fist, catching her in the jaw.

Gilbert jumped up, the stone being thrown towards Lovino as he cupped his fists together and slammed them down. The Imitators head was forced downwards with a sickening crack. Lovino grabbed the stone and threw it into the Imitator's neck.

She screeched, and the wind finally stopped. The three of them fell to the ground. Gilbert caught himself in a roll, Lovino didn't have such luck and a million arrows pierced him like tacks. He didn't let him slow it down.

The Imitator coughed and writhed, a gaping hole in her neck, black coming together but bleeding out rather than repair as she attempted to crawl away with a single hand.

It was…pathetic.

Lovino sought out the symbol on her back and pressed the stone to it. The way she cried out caused something in his chest to tremor. The way she was torn apart, disintegrated. She didn't pose a threat the way that she was. She was harmless. She was crying out in such pain and agony, black blood seeping around and screaming at him in small, animated faces.

Gilbert put out his hand. "I'll do the last one," he offered quietly, taking off his helmet. His eyes were fixed, sad, maybe. Though, Lovino had never seen him sad, so maybe it was fatigue. His hair was a mess and there was a redness rimming his eyes.

Lovino nodded, handing over the weapon and directing Gilbert to the final hidden tattoo. He could admit to himself that he was one step away from retching. Just the thought of it all—just the thought of destroying—he turned away, wishing that he couldn't sense energy levels.

Suddenly, a new energy came alive, as if just  _appearing_  from thin air. Lovino twisted around, but he was too late. A stone, similar to that that resurrected the Imitator as well as the one that tore her apart, was being poured out of what looked to be a strange leather bag sewn by wires and into Gilbert's hand.

It was the resurrection stone Anubis had given him. Smaller, a more mellow energy—only, it was different than before. It was fueled with something.

"Gilbert—What are you—!" Lovino screamed.

But he was too late. Gilbert pressed the stone to the Imitator's flesh. The light was green, not red, no energy was destroyed, shreaded. Lovino screamed, throwing himself forward, ready to fight, but his arms were captured and he was pulled back.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

It only took a blink before he was relocated.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_So, I failed. I realllllly wasn't into the idea of writing action last night, and I didn't want everything to come off stiff. Bleh. Anyway, THREE MORE CHAPTERS! Yay_

COMMENT! What are your guys' plans for Halloween?


	53. Cinquante-Trois

They were in a vast room that almost took on the figure of a hall with the amount of mechanical junk set along the walls. The light cast a grainy orange along the shadows, while the mechanical churning of a large chamber let off the impression of a combating blue along the white and grey panning. The floor was hard under Lovino's knees as he tried to throw the soldiers behind him off.

Gilbert stood before him. The vast ceiling above him, cut off by what Lovino would assume to be a cement ceiling mixed with some raven material that caused it to glow obsidian above them-black stars in a grey sky—made the snow white of his hair and slight flush of his skin all become an engulfing of flamed shadows and brown coatings. His uniform, stained with the black splotches of blood—his or another's Lovino couldn't know—rustled like leaves with every movement, the belt around his waist crinkled with such detail Lovino decided himself insane. The stone in his hand never lost the fevered green omniscient. Below him, embraced by the kiss of death, calm in the sea of black, was the image that tainted Lovino's whole world another shade darker.

Feliciano lay at Gilbert's feet. The gaping hole in his chest blinked mockingly at Lovino as he screamed, pleaded, inquired and cursed.

"What are you doing!" he cried, ignoring the way every move caused his pinned arms to stretch and pop and ache. He kicked with his toes, scrapping along the floor as he tried to close the gap, to push Gilbert away, to beat the point into him. "NO! Stop! What are you doing? Stop!"

No, no, no, this wasn't happening. This wasn't—no, Gilbert had promised him, hadn't he? Gilbert knew. Gilbert understood. No, this wasn't happening. No. No it couldn't be. Eurydice—no, no this—no this couldn't be happening!

Feliciano wanted to die. Feliciano had gotten what he wanted. He was so close. So close to peace. No, Gilbert understood that!

"Stop! Leave him alone! GILBERT!"

The pill. Feliciano still had the pill. Maybe—he still had a chance.

That didn't stop Lovino from struggling. The word invaded him like a ghost. Pill, pill, pill. There was still hope for Feliciano to be happy.

Gilbert stooped down, allowing the stone to waterfall into the abyss. The green light changed, a vibrant pink surrounding the area. Gilbert quickly recoiled his hand away, his gaze never leaving, no matter how bright the world became. Everything pulsed, once, twice, with every beat it was stronger, faster, a heat through the air. And then, slowly, the bright light disappeared and everything was dark, the orange film no longer capable of lighting anything compared to the brilliant display it followed.

Everything was quiet. Lovino's heart had ceased to tremor, to beat, his pulse was impossible to find or think about.

Everything was quiet.

Then Feliciano gasped.

"No," Lovino's facial features didn't know how to express the pure dread of his heart. It felt like leather had been stretched over his features rather than the skin he had been born with. A million unthought words coursed through his body. The trepidation, the fear, the pain, the guilt. It all flowed like a hurricane over an ocean.

The soldiers behind him let him go. He fell to his forearms, staring into the ground, screwing his eyes shut, trying to  _breathe_. His uniform was too constricting. "No—No," he tried to convince someone,  _anyone_  that this wasn't happening. It couldn't be. The way that the world beat against his shoulders, the way the constriction of his collar choked him—it wasn't true.

But when he looked up, he found it was.

Feliciano's body lay there, just breathing. Lovino could see that he was staring upward, at the million black stars. He could see the stream glinting along his temples and into the mess of dark locks beneath him. Lovino put his face in his hands, wishing that he could cry, that he could release this feeling of absolute failure and hopelessness. His hands scrubbed down his face and clapped into something of a prayer position.

What he would give to have a god to pray to.

His ego, his doubt, his life.

Please, please, just make it all go away. It wasn't real. Please, please make it not real.

"Please."

There was a short shuffle, whispered words. When Lovino looked up again he saw Feliciano clinging to Gilbert's neck, bawling his eyes out. Gilbert offered the hug back, his eyes closed and his fingers grappling into half-fists against Feliciano's tattered shirt. He whispered something, but Lovino didn't hear it, couldn't open his eyes enough to read the words. And then they parted. Gilbert helped him stand. A nod. An: "I understand."

Lovino moved to stand himself, to meet the boy, to do something, but he couldn't. His body shook too much. It wouldn't move.  _He_  couldn't move.

Saying things out loud made them real, but right now, the only thing it took to make his whole world crumble into the fantasy of madness was a single step. He bowed his head. His frown carved itself into his teeth, his jaw, pressed so dangerously that his cheeks rose and his eyes pressed—white stares in a black sky.

Cloudless. But rain soon started over him. Heavy droplets warms against his skin. He pressed his fists into the stone below him and rose his head. Seas fell from the sky, from a cloudless, dead expression. Black eyes. Cloudless.

"I failed," Lovino choked in a whisper, shaking his head. "I failed you again. I'm—I'm sorry—" Let the boy possess the tears, he would wear the expression.

Feliciano put out a hesitant hand. Lovino reached up to meet it.

A single touch. It would tear him apart. It would take the little shreds of humanity he possessed and twist them into a psychotic hopelessness that would lead him to insanity. A single touch.

He closed Feliciano's hand in between his own, pressing the warm, shaking fingers to his forehead.

"I failed you," he prayed, the orange ambiance bouncing and gleaming and drowning. "I failed you. I failed you. I—I failed."

Feliciano's other hand gently cupped the side of Lovino's face. The pressure was practically nonexistent, but Lovino followed it. Stared into the cloudless rain. Feliciano's features twitched, as if he wanted to smile but couldn't bring himself to do anything but blink. Couldn't bring himself to speak.

So instead, he hummed.

The melody was one Lovino didn't know, but the tenor rumbled slow through his chest, a reverent dance of mayhem, slow, appeasing, gentle and impossible. Lovino tightened his hold on the boy's hand, staring upwards, his knees sore beneath him. For the first time Lovino understood religion. He understood this. He understood kneeling before  _everything_.

Because Feliciano was his everything; not only his heart or his friend or his—he was everything. And Lovino had failed him. He turned his head and pressed a shaky kiss to the kid's knuckles, his lips quivering against the skin as he mouthed: "please, forgive me."

The melody died, and Lovino looked up. The kid turned his own head and spit.

The pill clattered silently away.

Lovino could only stare. Shake his head, stare, not understand a single fucking thing.

The boy motioned for Lovino to stand, and, somehow, he found the strength. The boy's honey eyes were dark, but they stared with a dead confidence. A duty that killed him by forcing him to live. They were so close that their noses touched. Lovino closed his eyes, furrowing his brows and resting his forehead on the other's. he felt the slightest flutter as Feliciano closed his own eyes. Lovino wrapped his arms around the boy's hips, pulling him closer. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Feliciano lifted his chin but didn't pull away, allowing his lips to murmur across Lovino's skin, the tip of his nose to scrape and dip into the air, a tentative resting. "I made a promise," he said, the first words since his revival. Lovino could only open a single eye, just enough to catch a new bout of tears falling from heavy lashes. He held him closer. Feliciano's own arms were strong, finding Lovino's biceps, handfuls of stiff fabric. "I'm sorry." He bit his lip, his face finally finding the will to twist into the tears that he shed, his arms rising and wrapping around Lovino's neck, his fingers raking through Lovino's hair as he cried into his ear. "I'm sorry, Lov."

Lovino bowed his head into the boy's shoulder. "No. Feliciano. No," he cried out, a light chuckle following the irony. "You're perfect, you did—there's nothing to apologize for."

But the boy shook his head and pulled away. Lovino didn't want to let him go. Didn't want to do anything but wrap into him, to fall to the ground and hold him, to be held. But he couldn't pull such brilliance down to his level. The kid pressed forward, letting his lips meet Lovino's for a single, fleeting moment before he was pulling away, his body his arms his kiss his warmth, before he was turning and apologizing.

Lovino was captured from behind again as Feliciano met Gilbert.

Gilbert nodded, reaching over and grabbing a large syringe. "Wait—What are you doing?" Lovino demanded, the numbness cascading into distress. "Gilbert! Gilbert what are you doing!"

Feliciano flinched with a loud hiss when the needle pierced him, the strange, glimmering liquid being pushed into his system. Gilbert pulled the needle out, Feliciano's whole countenance laced with pain as he keeled over the place of insert, his mouth opening and closing with no words, only murmurs and whimpers of pain. Gilbert clapped him on the shoulder before grabbing a second syringe and making his way to Lovino.

"What the hell is this!" Lovino screamed, throwing the weight in his shoulder. "I thought you were our friend! I trusted you!"

Gilbert didn't say anything as he lifted Lovino's shirt enough to get to his side, plunging the needle into his skin. Lovino hissed, trying to flinch away from the invading metal, but the two solders behind him held him still.

"What the fuck is this!" the liquid spread through his body, causing his muscles to constrict in such a painful manner that his shield seemed to try and combat the internal pain by forming over his skin. "Gilbert! Answer me, damn it!"

"Move him to the pod," Gilbert muttered with a tossing of his head towards the large machine that sputtered blue.

Lovino struggled against them, screaming out his curses. Even as he was pushed into a chair, as his arms were strapped down painfully tight, his legs soon wrapped just as mercilessly, he screamed. "Gilbert! I trusted you! What was all that shit about trust? Damn it! Fuck you! You're a fucking liar! You're a fucking traitor! I trusted you."

Gilbert moved to close the pod's door. He hesitated. "I never broke my word," he defended confidently. His eyebrow quirked above glaring red eyes. " _I understand_. C'mon, don't try to tell me you've never seen  _Two and a Half Men_."

"You're a bastard!" Lovino screamed back, fighting against his bonds. Just as Gilbert was closing the door, Lovino caught sight of it.

Off, stuffed along the junk, was a white blanket, red and grey in the lighting. It was pulled over a body.

Not pulled up enough to hide the blond hair, the dead face.

"YOU KILLED YOUR OWN FUCKING BROTHER FOR THIS?"

The door closed with a whoosh and Lovino was locked in perpetual darkness. He continued to scream, to struggle. His vocal chords were ripped apart as he continued to shout. His wrists bled.

And then everything was lit up. The murmuring of the machine he was in turned into a mighty growl, a million little bulbs flashing a brilliant white in his eyes. He flinched backwards, for a moment allowing himself silence, swallowing past a bloodied throat. His nails curled and bit into his palm.

Something happened. Lovino's whole body, all at once, constricted. He screamed, unable to keep the black smoke around his limbs from filling up the small pod he was stuck in. His whole body was wretched into the movement, he shut his eyes, he could do nothing.

And then it all stopped.

He had a moment to rest. His chin dug into his chest and he swallowed deep breaths. His head pounded like no other. He blinked through the tears.

And then it happened again.

"GAH-!"

* * *

Days.

It must have been days. Lovino had been rendered to a whimpering mess, head rolled onto his shoulder when the pain wasn't quaking through his veins. His breaths came in stammered bouts, pulled in past long-since dried tears. He couldn't open his eyes. The drill in between his brows kept him from doing anything.

Days.

* * *

When the door opened, allowing fresh air to revolve around him and his filth, all he could do was hope it was being opened so that someone would shoot him. His bounds were worked away and he was slung around someone's shoulder.

He was weak. His body wouldn't move on his command. He couldn't even whimper out.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Gilbert muttered slowly, shrugging him along. Lovino allowed himself to be dragged.

He couldn't dip into unconsciousness. Whatever he had been injected with had killed his ability to sleep. Had killed his ability to hold back his powers. He was so weak, but still so aware as water found his skin, as a new needle found his arm, the  _dripping_ of an I.V. that wouldn't shut the fuck up as he laid there. He was aware of the bedspread, but he couldn't open his eyes. Never. His head hurt too much, a single drop of light would cause the pressure in his skull to finish the job, a cracking, shattering implosion. It took all his power just to breathe. Staggered breaths taken through his mouth.

* * *

Someone sighed as they came in, taking a seat next to his bed. "I'm surprised that you didn't die," the albino's hiss said, a solemn soberness traipsing through his tone. "It's over now. The war." There was another long sigh, a short shuffle. "It's all over."

Lovino set his jaw and allowed his eyes to open. Just slightly, but he guessed it was something. Everything was a white blur and he flinched back, giving out a whimpered cry.

"Feliciano's alive, too," Gilbert muttered in response. "He—You'll both be fine. You'll both recover. I wasn't sure how long this would take, but you should be able to sleep soon, don't worry."

His head pounded, exploded. He clenched his jaw, his whole body tensing with the pain. Still, he managed a choked: "why?"

Gilbert chuckled lowly. "The  _Latkins_  and  _Hollows_  posed a threat much larger than the Warp. They spread and really had no real  _goal_  outside of destruction. We needed a way to produce a weapon against them, but I didn't have enough time to…figure it out." There was a long pause. "So," he breathed dramatically, "I went with what I knew would work. You and Feliciano. We didn't have the delicacy to allow you two to walk around and hold hands with each one of them, though. I needed a system to get your guys' energy out there in an efficient manner. So, instead of discovering the secret to the energy, I put together a system that would amplify it, and with a research team from the Confraternity we were able to use notes from countless other researches and put together the first communication lines between worlds. Your energy was sent from you to over a thousand firearms. And, it worked. We won." There was a bitterness to that last line, but Lovino didn't have enough energy to talk back. He listened as Gilbert stood. "Eat something, you should be able to sleep soon."

Lovino had to try. "Ludwig-?"

But it was too quiet, and Gilbert was too gone.

* * *

He had told the truth. It felt like forever before his head finally shut down and he drifted to sleep. He was forced awake, finding himself surrounded by a team. He scrunched up his face with a coughing groan.

"He's back," someone was saying.

"Hang in there," another muttered.

Lovino tried to raise his head, open his eyes, but couldn't. Instead he was rendered back against the pillow, back to sleep.

* * *

A pretty woman helped him sit up. He groaned, nodding at her slowly. "Thank you," he muttered out.

She moved the retractable table forward. A simple meal of soft foods was set before him. He rested his forearms on the cool metal, allowing his head to hang as he grasped at his energy, attempting to move and eat. The nurse understood and help.

Lovino chuckled, feeling a bit pathetic as he allowed himself to be fed, but grateful for it.

"Hey, look at you," Gilbert announced, walking in, his fingers messing up his hair. Lovino ticked a look his way, grimacing as the pain in his head throbbed. No matter how much pain medication they filled him with, it seemed that his head was always pounding. "Try the sauce. Looks like apple sauce, absolutely isn't. Gotta try it."

Lovino shook his head. "What—" he paused, recollected his strength. "What are you doing here, Gilbert?"

"Just coming in to check up on ya. I got this. Thanks, Luc."

Lovino watched the nurse leave, his eyes practically begging her to stay and send the out-spoken bastard away. "My head hurts. You've checked."

Gilbert chuckled, sitting down with a slight sigh. Lovino raised his chin when Gilbert came at him with the spoon, offering his defiance through a glare and a painful motion that reached out and shakily took the spoon himself. He wasn't about to be spoon fed by this fucker. The albino quirked a brow, bemused.

"What do you want?" Lovino groaned.

"The Confraternity has lost a lot of trust in the old Order," he said seriously. "Their inactivity throughout all of this has really shown a lot of them how utterly useless their gods are."

"That's great," Lovino ground, a shaky hand to his head. "Why does it matter now?"

"This thing with the Warp is over but…there's a lot of disorder in the Confraternity forces. That coup d'état? It's looking like it's a lot more than just a possibility now." The albino sat back, looking up at the ceiling. "I know you're not in great shape right now, but when you are, I was—"

"I'm done fighting," Lovino decided harshly. "I'm not joining any other fucking war. I—I'm sorry, Gilbert, but—"

Gilbert let off a bitter snort. "Yeah, it's to be expected." He stood and started away.

"Gil—"

He hummed back.

"Send the nurse back in, please."

"Yeah."

* * *

His arms trembled as he counted on them more than he did his legs, walking the length of the parallel bars. He grit his teeth, making it to the end and collapsing down against the cool material.

"Great job," his physical therapist said above him, setting down her clipboard and helping him back to his feet. "You're much faster."

Lovino ticked her a smile. "Yeah—I, can I go again?"

"Are you sure."

He nodded his head. "Absolutely."

"You've made great progress, Lovino. Don't push yourself too hard. You should—"

He didn't wait for her to finish before he started again. Three days he had been trying to walk without fucking balance beams. Anyone who thought it would take four was a fool.

His first steps without the bars put him on the ground, but he pushed away the help of his doctor, instead struggling back to his feel himself. Everything trembled.

Okay, maybe it would take four.

Or eleven.

Fuck, he was weak.

* * *

"Standing outside his room isn't the same as going in and talking to him, you know," Gilbert said.

Lovino looked back, leaning against the wall, his arms over his chest. "You're back."

"I told you—"

"Cut the shit. You want us to join your fucking regime. It's not happening."

"You don't know what Feliciano's agreed to or hasn't."

Lovino set his jaw, attempting to keep his fist from balling. "Haven't you done enough? Can't you just leave us the fuck alone?"

"Lovi—"

"No, Gilbert. Listen. You might be some decorated war hero for what you fucking did, but I will  _never_  trust you again. I knew that you were fucked in the head from day one. But—" Lovino shook his head, looking down the opposite hall rather than Gilbert's face. "If your ideal human race is whatever the fuck you are, then I hope everyone fucking burns. A humanity based around your—you're a fucking monster, Gilbert."

There was a tense pause between them. Lovino expected him to leave, to punch him, to make some stupid joke, but instead he just sat there quietly. Lovino closed his eyes when he broke the silence. "Gramps was an idiot," he decided assuredly. "Said I could never hurt him. Laid out a wonderful set of definitions. Physical hurt, mental hurt, fucking ego—" he cut off. Lovino offered him a glance. He wasn't crying, he wasn't angry, he just stared at the wall, shaking his head ever-so-slightly. "Luddy used the rules against me. Said if I didn't do it I'd be breaking my FUCKING WORD." His fist was sent behind him, clattering into the wall. With a tight breath he calmed the sudden anger, closing his eyes for a long moment. When he re-opened them, he was sighingly calm again, his hand sent over his head and to his neck. "Call me what you want, but I'm not a liar. Shit happens, and shit happened. Not much we can do about all that now, eh?"

"So, just like that, you're okay with it?"

"Life doesn't give a shit what you're okay with." He shrugged. "And it doesn't stop to wait for you to come to terms with—well, anything, really. I have a job to do, a goal to accomplish, and if you think that Ludwig's death is going to wreck my progress you're an idiot."

Lovino couldn't help it, he chuckled. "Yeah, it's a term I've come to associate with myself for sure."

Another bout of silence passed between the two, but it was shared not in anxiety but something of a shared solace. Lovino rolled his eyes. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

Gilbert laughed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Just, think about what I've said. And, I'm not asking you to fight. There's a lot more needing to be done. Ever think about plumbing as a profession?"

"No, Gilbert, I haven't."

"Might suit ya. The surname's Italian, isn't it? Gas-pari. Sounds like a plumber to me." He started to turn, heading his way back down the hall. No doubt he would continue coming until Lovino killed him or agreed to join him.

"Hey, Beilschmidt," he called out.

Gilbert paused, taking a sobering moment before he turned. "Yeah?"

"You going on that skiing trip?"

Red eyes found the wall, the floor, a smirked sigh that couldn't hide the sudden discomfort. "You know, I've been thinking about that. Slopes really aren't for me. Might take up a surfing trip instead."

"Don't deny them being able to meet both of their kids," Lovino returned.

Gilbert laughed. "Ah, so Ludwig opened up to you, hmm? How touching."

"Seriously, Gil."

Gilbert shrugged dismissively. "I don't honestly know if I can face them right now. It'd be a visit full of lies, and that's a pretty big cramp in my style. Thanks for the concern, though. Focus on getting better." And he was turning, leaving. Lovino frowned after him. "Oh, and don't go telling me to grow a pair when you can't even bring yourself to see your boyfriend." And then he was gone.

Lovino frowned, sighing against the wall and looking up at the ceiling. He knew every crack in it. Had studied it, his very own scripture. "What am I even supposed to fucking say?" he grumbled to himself.

"You could start with an 'I love you' that doesn't end in sacrificial suicide."

Lovino jumped back. He hadn't heard the kid's door open. Nevertheless, he stood there, his eyes staring up at Lovino with a moisture Lovino was sure would never be dispelled. He offered Lovino a smile, but Lovino could tell that it was forced. His legs shook dangerously beneath him and he was leaning against the doorframe for support. He looked like he had lost some weight, but there was a flush to his skin that assured Lovino that he was, in fact, on the road to recovery.

"Are you just going to stand there?" the kid cry-laughed.

He was always cry-laughing.

"You're an idiot," Lovino muttered, stealing forward, an automatic hand shooting to cup his face as he pulled him into a kiss.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_Ah, and onto the resolution we go! Isn't this fun? I like to consider this as a three-part resolution. Defeat the war, overcome the adventure, and find the future. So, sorry if it's not as intense as the rest of the story has been, there probably won't be much action from here on out (I might find a way to fit some fun fight scenes in, and the final chapter does have a little bit of an intense beginning, but I do apologize if it feels a little more drowned. We have surpassed the climax, and now it's all about finishing the character development!)_

COMMENT! What do you guys think about Gilbert and Ludwig's sacrifice? Do you understand it? (If not, Feliciano will explain it next chapter)


	54. Cinquante-Quatre

The overcast was freeing, if Lovino was to be honest. Fog hung loosely in the air, moisture pinning around ever bit of skin of his that it could find with a cold chill. He breathed in, the crisp air a welcome guest to his lungs.

The moisture had collected generously on the branches of a fall oak. Its branches contrasted seasonally with the perfect, bright grey of the sky above each twisted finger. The moisture turned the bark a deep brown. Lovino's hand had been stolen by the boy that stared down at the base of the tree. A small cloud formed around his breath.

"I'm surprised you talked Gil into getting a headstone," Lovino said lowly, the metal at his feet covered in droplets and fallen leaves, but the bronze engraved  _Ludwig Beilschmidt_  stared up at them.

"I—I think he would have liked being buried under an oak," Feliciano murmured, seemingly stuck in his head, his free hand bunched over his heart. "I think he liked oaks. He was a lot like—do you think he would have liked it here, Lovino?"

Lovino wiped spiked hair from his eyes. "I'm sure he would have."

"His body isn't here. It was burned, used for some energy thing Gilbert—I think he would have liked the oak tree, though, if he was going to be buried. He would have wanted it under an oak tree surrounded by his family." The boy's voice trailed off curiously as he stared upwards. "Strong branches," he decided. "I think he would have liked the oak tree."

"He actually mentioned something about oak trees to me once," Lovino lied in a low voice, breathing against the wind. "Said he used to enjoy climbing them. I am sure he would love being here."

Feliciano turned and looked at Lovino as if he had just offered him the whole world on some platter. "Really?"

Lovino just nodded with an assuring hum. "You did perfect."

Lovino was not surprised when such a simple lie brought tears to join the cold flushed cheeks and wandering eyes. He turned his eyes back to trace the tree branches with a long sniff. "He had a good heart. Strong, like the branches."

"I know, Feliciano."

"He—He was good. All of him. He was good to his brother and to us and to everyone he ever helped, Lovino."

"Yes, Feliciano, I know."

"And he—"

"Feliciano!" Lovino snapped suddenly, pulling his hand free and stuffing it into his pocket. It was cold. "I know." Feliciano fell silent, looking down to his feet. Lovino clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he turned. "Let's…Let's just go back. It's cold out here."

"Yeah, okay."

They picked their way back through the overgrown park. They were 'stationed' in the Renegade, though neither of them had a real job yet. Every time they requested something to do, they were told that they still needed to recover. The apartment they shared felt more like a jail than a home, but Lovino knew that everyone meant well.

The Renegade was slowly being rebuilt from the ground-up. There were also a good deal more securities put in place; a thanks that must be administered to bad past decisions and Confraternity troops. An overthrow of the Order wasn't going to be a fast or easy feat, and thankfully there were more realistic heads on the topic than Gilbert's. Most notably, Rei. Lovino hadn't seen her much since the battlefield, and every time he looked her in the eyes she shied away from the simple intamency of it (Lovino knew that she was guilty, and that provided him with something of closure, though not enough to ever totally forgive what she fucking let happen), but he had heard a great deal of the little feats she had accomplished, like talking Gilbert out of the idea of  _revolution_.

The parks were still overgrown, the streets were littered with the colors of despair, but at the end of the day there was a lot of progress being done. A lot more people agreed to come and side with the rebels after the war.

Lovino hadn't seen Gilbert since the hospital, so he had no idea how the albino felt about it all. He could only imagine some childish joy that came with crude jokes and murmurs of scientific advancement.

However, when he looked up from his feet, none other than the bastard with red eyes was waiting for him. He stood beside another person, long blond hair that fell over a white overcoat in waves, a leash in their hand that followed down to a harness strapped around…Lovino sighed. His life was a cartoon.

"Hey!" Gilbert called, taking a hand from his coat pocket and putting it up in the air.

"Why the hell is there a  _bear_  with you?" Lovino demanded, not holding back to roll of his eyes.

Gilbert laughed. "This is Matt and his therapy bear."

Feliciano hesitated coming forward, taking in the new face. "May I pet it?" he asked sheepishly.

Matt nodded with a warm smile on his face. "Of course, you can. His name is Kumajuri. He's a toy polar bear. Though, he is the size of a large dog, he is house accessible. They're popular in the nineties after a campaign pushed for them to be preserved."

Feliciano smiled at the bear, a gentle hand finding its fur. "I'm sorry about your people," he whispered, "you are strong."

Gilbert moved with a wide gesture, probably one that was going to wrap a casual arm around Lovino's shoulders, but Lovino flinched back violently, a sudden trepidation shooting through his chest. He set his jaw, sizing up the man, looking for hidden weapons or closing fists or approaching needles.

Gilbert chuckled. "I'm not going to hit you."

He smoothed his fist against his thigh, ignoring the way his breathing had quickened. "I—I know, bastard," Lovino shot back defensively. "I just don't want to be fucking touched."

"I hear you guys don't get out much. I was honestly surprised to see you weren't at the apartment."

"We went to go see Ludwig," Feliciano chirped helpfully.

"His grave," Lovino corrected. Feliciano looked up at him, but when he caught the gaze it scurried back to the bear. "It's cold out here, are you guys looking for us or just passing by?"

Matt's smile never wavered, his features soft with every movement he made. "Actually, we've been sent by the Confraternity."

"By the Confraternity?" Lovino asked, furrowing his brows and finding himself sending a practical glare. "What the fuck do they want?"

Matt opened his mouth, but Gilbert put up a quick hand. "It is cold. Mind if we come in?"

Lovino's glare found the albino specifically now, but Feliciano jumped into action, his manners inviting them up to the apartment with a mellow cheer. Lovino frowned as he walked. Feliciano was happier now then he had been in what he could only assume to be fucking weeks. He had told the kid to fucking leave if he wasn't happy. He, of course, had broke down crying.

Lovino shrugged the thought off. No use thinking about that now.

Lovino was the last in and he closed the door. "Okay, Gilbert, cut the crap. What the fuck do you want?"

"Lovino, don't be rude," Feliciano muttered with a twisted frown on his face. His tone didn't hold any venom, and when Lovino glared at him he seemed to back off a little.

"You two have both requested jobs," Gilbert said, "and the Confraternity has decided that you both need to be cleared psychologically before you're allowed to work. Mathew is a psychiatrist from the Confraternity. It will be him over seeing your sessions."

"Sessions?" Lovino demanded, a flare a irritation towards the two men in his home fueling his words. "An analysis doesn't involve more than one fucking session."

Gilbert shrugged. "You're right. I might not be a therapist myself but talking to you right now already shows me that you haven't done the best at settling."

"Gilbert, please," Mathew said gently. "I just want to check you two over. Most soldier go through therapy sessions, especially after a battle. It's nothing against you, only to help you."

Lovino crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't trust real-world therapists. Gilbert and Ludwig playing pretend? Sure, at least he could beat the shit out of them. This guy, though?

He didn't trust him.

"Feliciano, do you mind if I do your analysis first?" Mathew asked kindly.

"Uhm, of course not," Feliciano said with a short nod. He moved to sit on the couch, but Mathew shook his head, sending a quick glance towards Lovino.

"In private?"

"All we have other than a living area and kitchen is a bedroom," Feliciano giggled, though his tone seemed to take on something else.

"We can go for a walk."

"Okay!"

Lovino was forced to step aside and watch them leave. He clicked his tongue as the door shut. "What the hell is your angle?" he demanded, not even bothering to look back.

"Weird that you two asked for two beds, I was sure that you would be stubborn and use the couch as a second option," Gilbert said, a grunt as he threw himself to said couch.

"Well, if you'd believe it, Feliciano is extremely claustrophobic. Won't even use a god damn blanket."

"I could see that," Gilbert murmured.

"Why now, Gilbert?" Lovino finally turned. "Why the hell are you showing up now. I haven't seen you since the god damn hospital."

Gilbert quirked a brow. "I've been busy. Bioweapons don't just develop themselves."

"You're still on about that?"

Gilbert chuckled. "It's the best lead we have when this thing takes off. It would probably be done already, but Lud was the main researcher on the subject. Half of my job is just reconstructing his notes."

Lovino swallowed the anger that rose with that fucking name. "And what is this shit about needing a psych test. I was given plenty at the hospital."

"Yeah," Gilbert sighed, "and now you're getting a check-up. Just because you were stable under constant supervision doesn't mean that you won't turn on your own."

"I'm fine."

"Clearly."

"Meaning?"

Gilbert looked at him with a stern soberness steeling his eyes. "Meaning that when Feliciano looks at you he looks fucking timid. Meaning that you're acting more like the kid that couldn't control his fucking powers than the one that decided to give up a loved one selflessly. I'm not a therapist—"

"Yeah, you keep fucking saying that—"

"—but I can make the clear diagnosis that you're being a fucking ass. And if you step one foot further I'm going to take your sessions into my own hands."

"You want to fucking fight?" Lovino screamed. "Come at me then, bitch!"

"Is this what you do? You pick fucking fist fights? Is that why he looks at you like you're about to fucking hit him!"

Lovino paused. " _What_?" he returned, before the flare of irritation returned. "Is that what you fucking think? That I'm fucking  _hitting_  Feliciano?"

"He surely didn't look like he felt safe."

Lovino shook his head, a derisive chuckle rising to his throat. "Of course he doesn't! How could he with everything he's been through! You think I'm hitting him? The most intimate that I've been with him since the hospital is hand holding, and he only fucking does that when we're outside. I would never fucking hurt him, do you understand? He is the most important thing in my fucking life, Gilbert. The only thing keeping me from putting a god damn gun to my head most of the time. He—Don't fucking come in here making accusations of things you know nothing about, Gilbert. Of things you helped cause, damn it!" His scream sent his foot into whatever it could find. The door. His hands were balled at his side, his breathing ragged.

He felt like he was being suffocated. The apartment did that a lot. Made him want to tear at his collar, scratch at any part of his skin that he could. That's why they had decided to go for a walk. They had both been feeling antsy, Feliciano wanted to pay his respects  _again_.

Lovino scrubbed a hand along his eyes. He just wanted to go back to bed. He wanted to be alone, now. He just wanted to be alone.

"Sorry," he muttered towards the albino. "I'm sure this isn't helping my case." He laced his hands behind his neck and sat, staring down at his feet, bent over his knees with a short shake of his head. "I don't know what's been happening. At first everything was fine. But the longer we're here the more I just…I don't fucking know. It's just too much. My head hurts all the time, Feliciano won't shut up about your god damn brother, every time I go outside everyone is just watching. It's maddening. I just—" all of his muscles tensed, as if that was a way to describe anything, and he let it all go, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes with a long groan.

Gilbert sighed beside him. "Give Mattie a chance. He's a close family friend. I'd trust him with my life, and I wouldn't have let the Confraternity send him if I didn't trust him with your guys' as well." He laughed. "As much as I hate to admit it, Lud's sacrifice made the both of you something of family to me. So, if you think that I'm going to let you two drive yourselves into the ground, I'm sorry but you're mistaken."

Lovino chuckled. "You're not just going to stick us on tables and operate us into the ground yourself?"

"Nah, there's a list of rules against harming family, and you're too dumb to find the loopholes in it."

Lovino couldn't help himself from laughing, and maybe laughing too long, at that. He blew out, throwing himself back. "Well at least that takes one fear off the list." He was only half-joking. Only half because he still didn't fully trust the blond.

* * *

Mathew and Feliciano returned after a while. Feliciano's cheeks were bright, his eyes red-rimmed with fresh tears as he walked in with constant sniffled. He wiped at his eyes, sending Lovino a small smile. Lovino grit his teeth, hating the way the kid looked, like the whole world was against him and if he didn't smile it would swallow him up, but he offered a smile back, as forced as it was.

"Lovino?" Mathew said.

"Yeah, yeah. Er—feel free to leave the bear. Feliciano likes it more than I do."

They took a simple walk, Lovino led as Mathew wasn't from around the Renegade, though it didn't look like he was a complete stranger to the area. He asked simple questions that Lovino had answered a million times at the hospital, with a few new ones thrown in. Lovino sunk into his coat, watching the area as they walked. There weren't many people out today. The ones that were seemed to be just as aware of him as he was of them. He glared, hating the chill but attempting to keep those things out of his tone as he answered.

"So, lay it on me, how crazy am I?" Lovino blew as they were walking back onto the apartment.

Mathew chuckled softly. He was a force not to be reckoned with, Lovino decided. He asked what he needed to ask and was practically silent or hummingly supportive at all other times. Him snapping would cause an emphasis. "You're not crazy, Lovino," he assured softly.

"But you want to see me again?"

"Yes."

Lovino paused his movements, hanging his head. 'Will…Can you help me?" Mathew was silent as he waited for Lovino to continue on his own. "I want him to be happy, and I want to stop feeling like I'm wearing a perpetual weight vest."

Mathew placed a light hand on Lovino's shoulder. He wondered whether he had done this to Feliciano. Had the kid flinched? Had he allowed it? Was that where the tears started so desperately?

The blond didn't say anything, didn't make any diagnosis, he just offered a small nod and a small smile. They made their way back to the apartment.

* * *

Lovino had seen Mathew a few times now. The blond had suggested a few methods of dealing with his anger, one of which explained why he was sitting here, dressed in sweats and a tee and shamelessly sweaty. Today's workout had been running, yesterdays had been the thing that completed his outfit with a brand-new shiner. Due to his constant headaches he wasn't exactly allowed to box, but it helped with his aggression more than anything else, and there were a surprising number of ex-soldiers with his same issue.

Every time they met, the topics became more intrusive. Or, at lease, they felt more intrusive. Lovino was painfully aware that every piece of information he gave stacked up with the others. Every time Mathew wrote something down, Lovino just assumed that it was a documented weakness.

Today's topic was the worst: Feliciano.

"What do you mean you don't feel like you're in an actual relationship with him?" Mathew pressed softly.

"All he does is pray into that fucking cross and talk about Ludwig." Lovino groaned loudly, throwing his hands up and smoothing them threw his hair. "I can't fucking touch him. I'm afraid that if I hug him he'll start hyperventilating. I—He's different. I don't know how to fucking help him. He doesn't sleep, and when he does he's crying and screaming, and  _I can't touch him_!" He scrubbed his hand down his face, shaking his head. He would need to go for another run after this. The tension was back. He tried to sigh it away. "What is a fucking relationship that doesn't talk past a single subject and is always arm's length away?"

"Do you expect him to be like he was?'

Lovino deflated into himself. "No, of course not."

"Then what do you expect?"

"I—I don't know." Mathew sat in his solace, letting Lovino find his thoughts rather than pushing him into them. Lovino both recognized and appreciated that aspect of these talks when compared to those with Ludwig or Gilbert. He wasn't being pushed into an end-all decision with some stupid philosopher being shoved down his throat. Mathew waited, and Lovino almost felt that the blond would wait forever if he needed to. "I guess I expected him to be different in some ways, but I always counted on him being clingy. He…He's changed since we first found out about all this, but he always had that aspect of touchiness. Now he freaks if I stand too close. It's like he's as scared of me as he is his memories."

"Do you think that he's scared of you?"

Lovino frowned. "I don't know."

* * *

It felt like forever, but when Lovino recognized a difference he couldn't stop recognizing it. Feliciano had taken up the long habit of writing in a journal. Lovino had accidently stolen a glance at a page, but found himself chuckling as he walked away from the open book with the image of scrambled letters in some code—likely multiple codes all strewn into one—humorously wrapped around his head.

It was nice to know that he hadn't changed in all aspects.

And, when Lovino looked a bit harder, as Mathew had instructed, he found that there were other things that Feliciano still did. He threw himself into whatever activity he could find (which, in the quieter times usually meant cleaning and griping at Lovino for being a slob) when he was down, and unfortunately, he was done a lot. But, it seemed that he didn't look at everything through the same lens that Lovino did, because, sure, he was nose-deep into some research he had begged Gilbert for on the gods, but he also smiled a bit more, he rambled a bit more on origins and silly things, he scrunched up his nose in a pout when Lovino wasn't listening to him.

He did spend long days in bed, staring at the wall, not answering Lovino if he spoke, or answering with slight murmurs and sniffles as his arms just wrapped tighter around his chest and he curled further into himself, but slowly these long days started filling themselves with vocal cries,  _words_. A million "I don't know"s and a thousand "why?"s that Lovino didn't have the answer to, but it was something, and for Feliciano Lovino would take absolutely anything.

Lovino recognized that Feliciano had pulled back a lot. He didn't talk just to talk unless he knew what he was talking about. It took a while for Lovino to see this one, because the kid was skilled in talking, but when he realized that their heated debates of the past were, in fact, of the past, that every time Feliciano opened his mouth it seemed the kid was  _teaching_  him something rather than holding a conversation, he also realized how soft spoken he had become. The kid was stubborn. He was an ass, an idiot, someone that knew what he wanted and would berate anyone that thought his beliefs were rubbish, but lately it felt that he was mellower. He didn't call Lovino a douche anymore. He just shut up and agreed. He would look away, retreat into his head. He didn't pick fist fights, he didn't jump to sudden conclusions and act out. He thought every action, every word out, and it was something that had Lovino biting his tongue.

If Feliciano could grow up then he could too.

* * *

Lovino chuckled. "Are we really calling it a war?"

"What would you call it?"

Lovino paused with a small gesture. "I don't know, something less…drastic."

"Well, what do you think affects you most from your adventure, then?"

Lovino sighed, sitting up a little. "Faces, I guess. There's…There's a lot of faces that I remember. And a lot of faces I notice now. Everyone's is different. I can't explain it but—" he looked down at his hands, feeling like an idiot. He dismissed everything with a shrug. "I don't know. It's nothing compared to others. It's not a haunting feeling or anything. Just…all it is is a thing, so—" he looked up with a quickly ticked smile. "I got off lucky, I guess."

"Faces of people you fought with?"

"Them, and others. I just remember faces. Even of the people I meet today."

He nodded, taking down another weakness. Lovino tried not to be bothered.

* * *

Lovino sat with his face in his hands. His head pounded dangerously, his whole body constricted with tension, he couldn't keep his foot from taping. He needed to get out, do something, but every time he rose his head from his hands the back and front and all around his cranium exploded and threatened to floor him. "Feliciano," he snapped. "Quiet the fuck down."

Lovino expected him to just do it, but instead the kid shot back with a sharp, "if you want quiet then go in the room."

The older of the two shot a glare up, swallowing the pain that caused the corners of his vision to darken. Feliciano sat at the coffee table filled with books and notes and whatever-the-fuck-else, flipping the page of his book obnoxiously loud. "My head hurts," Lovino ground out.

"Mhmm," Feliciano hummed back dismissively.

"Do you have a  _problem_?"

Fliciano's movements slowed, he took a moment to stare at the table, breathing in through his nose. "Yeah, I do," he decided finally.

Lovino rose his brows dubiously. "Oh, yeah, what?"

"You."

"Excuse me?" Lovino really wasn't in the fucking mood for this shit. He just wanted to suffer in fucking silence, damn it.

Feliciano rose his gaze to him, and the way he spoke and held himself almost felt rehearsed. "You're act like a dick sometimes, Lovino. When you're tired, when your head hurts, just randomly—you—well, you act like a child sometimes, and it's hard to put up with." The further he got into his speech, the more pulled back his words became, but comparatively his eyes got more confident.

"Oh,  _I'm sorry_!" Lovino yelled. "At least I'm not running around being fucking annoying at all god damn times of the day!"

A flash of irritation flashed across Feliciano's features. "No, but you  _are_  hypercritical of EVERYTHING!" He made a quick gesture with his hands. "Can I not do anything without you having to say something about it?  _You're still working on that? Why are you reading that? You're eating again? When's the last time you slept?_ Lovino, I don't need you standing over my shoulder all the time!"

"That's great," Lovino mocked with a mean nod of his head. "You know what? I'll just shut up. Won't say anything. Because fucking forbid I try to start a conversation with you that doesn't revolve around the fucking dog."

"Stop calling Ludwig that every time you're backed into a corner!" Feliciano screamed back, standing up. "Stop bringing him up just to be an asshole about it!"

" _I'm_ not the one praying to him day-in day-out!" Lovino returned, rising to his own feet.

"Praying? I don't pray, Lovino! I gave up my religion a long time ago,  _you know that_! You're just—"

"What? Being a dick? Well, sorry I can't be as compatible as your fucking dog. You know, sometimes I think that you wish that it was Ludwig here and not me. You surely seem to like him more."

"No, of course not!"

Lovino snorted. "Your answer is too quick! So, you're either telling me what I want to hear, or you've fucking thought about it!"

He flinched back, losing a piece of his fire, looking down at the ground, looking away. When he spoke, his voice wasn't above the slightest murmur, small. "Of course, I've thought about it, Lovino."

That was a thing Lovino was finding he hated: the truth. He almost expected everyone to lie to him, to just appease him through his  _recovery_ , but the fucking kid always found a way to throw him a curve ball. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint. You know what? If you'd be happier with him, I'm sure you could find a carbon copy somewhere! He was pretty dull. Eight billion people, Feliciano; go on, leave! Be fucking happy somewhere else!"

Feliciano stomped his foot, the water works fully up and running now. "That's not what I mean, Lovino! You know that's not what I mean!"

"It isn't? Well you could have fucking fooled me! Though, I'm not as smart as your dead boyfriend, so I can see where you might have been mistaken!" Feliciano let out a strangled cry, the sound he made before he moved to bite, but instead he just stormed into their room, slamming the door behind him. "That's right!" Lovino screamed. "Go cry to your fucking ghost!"

His headache had only worsened, but it didn't keep him from walking out the of the apartment, slamming the door behind himself. He didn't make it far from his door, though, before he was sliding down the wall of the hall, hands grabbing at his hair. "Fuck," he cried tearlessly into his knees. "What the fuck am I doing?"

* * *

"Lovino—" the whisper came up from behind him, slow and steady. Lovino was sitting on the couch, his nose in his book. He wasn't actually reading, though, couldn't concentrate, and he had heard the door open and the soft padding of feet over to him. Still, he played ignorant. A small hum as he flicked his eyes up.

The boy's red eyes and flushed skin killed him. Lovino hated himself. He set his jaw, folding his book closed and sitting up. "Fell, listen, I'm sorry." He was never really one to apologize first, but he was positive that he was wrong here.

Feliciano didn't seem to hear him. He just stared down at his feet. Lovino felt his heart drop. He knew that look. It was the one that Feliciano wore when he was rolling a difficult subject around his tongue before spitting it out. "Lovino, do you think that we should—" he started wringing his hands together, a new bout of tears, "do you think that we should—should—" he swallowed the last word so many times, but Lovino felt it pierce his heart nevertheless. He couldn't speak. "It's just—you keep on telling me to leave. You keep on saying—are you saying that you—are you not happy?"

"Feliciano," Lovino whispered, unable to say anything beyond that. Why? Why couldn't he find his tongue? His words? Why did this dread weigh down his air, impossible to turn steal into lead, into words, into a twisting declaration of something more than desperately whispered titles?

"I know that there's problems, but…but I feel like I'm putting in more work than you are. I feel like you don't care and that you're just waiting for me to leave. I—Is that what you want, Lov?" Lovino couldn't say anything! Feliciano just stared down, his tears becoming more abundant the longer the silence between them sat. Lovino tried to make out his words, his feelings, but he couldn't. All he could do was stare. Feliciano looked like he was about to turn, to leave. "Okay."

"Feliciano—" Lovino choked out, grabbing at him and hating himself when the kid flinched away. Feliciano's eyes rose to meet his. They searched so diligently, and Lovino really hoped that the kid could see what Lovino couldn't understand himself. "No, of course not. I—" he shook his head. "Of course not."

It was lame. He was lame. But how was he supposed to put into words that Feliciano was the only person he fully trusted? How was he supposed to explain that the kid pissed him off more than anyone else, but was also the only reason he smiled or considered a future? How was he supposed to let on that Feliciano was the only reason that he hadn't fallen to a complete mess? The reason he fucking played along with the therapy, the reason he never took Gilbert up on the whiskey and beer, the reason he continued getting fucking dressed instead of just staying in bed and withering away? How could he let the kid fucking know that he was what brought out the best in him? That he felt he was dragging the kid down—that he was the one making him miserable, that he was afraid that one day Feliciano would realize that Lovino was toxic and would leave on his own?

How was he supposed to admit that it made him feel at least a little bit better thinking that if Feliciano left, then it would be because Lovino told him to?

"Ohana," he decided shortly.

Feliciano wiped at his eyes with a short, unbelieving chuckle. "What?"

"Ohana," Lovino said again, nodding himself into false confidence. "Little and broken and whatever the hell else that movie went on about, but…Ohana." Did he understand? Maybe Lovino shouldn't pretend he actually payed attention to the movie despite Feliciano having made him sit through it a million-and-a-half times. Fuck, Lovino really wasn't good at this. He chuckled through his despair, looking down and folding his hands under his chin. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, Fell. You were always the one that was good at this shit. You punched me when I was a little bitch, and you told me you loved me when I wasn't. I guess…I'll try harder. You're right. It's not fair that I put everything on you. But I promise you that the last thing I want is for you to leave." He sunk into himself, staring downwards. "I just want you to be happy."

Lovino recoiled slightly when a hand found his shoulder. It was hesitant and uncomfortable, but it hovered for a long moment. Lovino looked up to him, finding a sniffling smile and nodding idiot. "I'll try harder, too."

* * *

Lovino blew out a long breath. "Yeah, okay, that's a fair assessment," he decided with a light nod. The longer they talked, the more Mathew seemed to tell him. He didn't give out grave diagnosis or pills, but he would give a light thought and a method to maybe combat what he pointed out.

Mathew smiled at him. "I don't blame you."

"I would certainly hope not," Lovino joked, finding himself giving a genuine laugh. He sighed. "Not sure if we'll be able to fix it, though. I—It's not—I don't know it's not exactly apparent. I don't think the government's conspiring against me?"

Mathew reached over, outstretching a notebook. Lovino took it. It was blank. "I'm going to have you keep a log of every time you think you're being a little overly paranoid. Of strangers, friends. I just want you to be aware of how you're feeling when it comes to others."

Great, he was now the proud owner of a diary. "I love how manly I feel coming out of these sessions. Tell me, got it in pink?"

Mathew chuckled.

* * *

"What are you reading?" The boy came into their room, working his fingers through his hair.

Lovino hummed at him, finishing his paragraph and marking the place with his thumb. "Erm,  _The Private Adventures of Captain Shaw_ ," he decided, taking a quick glance at the cover.

"Is it good?" Feliciano made his way into the room.

Lovino dipped his head into a nod. "Interesting for sure." He moved to take off his glasses, but paused when Feliciano sat on the side of the bed. He quirked a brow. "You alright?"

Feliciano nodded, sending him a quick smile. "Tired," he decided, laying down and curling his knees into his chest. "Will—Can you read to me?"

Lovino couldn't help but smile. "Do you want a recap on what's happened?"

"No, that's fine. Just—do your accents?"

"My accents?"

"Yeah, like when you mock people."

Lovino laughed, "alright, I'll try."

He played up the dialogue as Feliciano had asked, and the kid giggled here and there, encouraging Lovino to continue, animating his features as he did so. Lovino's tongue would slip and he would pronounce something weird and Feliciano would playfully berate him, but he would push back, acting like he was a professional and that Feliciano should be grateful that he got to see such raw interpretation of the English language. His energy slowly mellowed out, and when he was done reading Feliciano thanked him and went to his own bed.

It would take a while, an impossible long while and an impossible number of pages, but Feliciano's company slowly started sticking around a little longer, and the kid even dared closer proximity once in a while.

* * *

Mathew took a long moment to think it over, but Lovino understood that this silence was one for the therapist to ponder, not for him. He almost felt like he had said to much. Fuck, who was he kidding? Of course he felt like he said to much, because  _he did_. Idiot of the year goes to-! "You think that he wanted to kill himself?" Mathew finally recapped.

"Can you blame him?"

"Do you believe that he still wants to?"

Lovino searched the floor for the words. "I don't know."

"If he tried to kill himself and you were there, would you stop him."

His cheek would be bloodied and raw at the end of this session, that was for sure. "I—I don't know."

* * *

"Come on, Lov! I'm going to leave without you!" Feliciano yelled from the door.

Lovin grumbled, practically throwing himself off the bed to grab his hoodie. "You can't just wake me up and expect me to be ready to go for a run  _that second_!" Lovino shot back through the fabric of the coat as he pulled his head through.

He moved to stumble out of the room but paused catching the sight of a very simple cross at the foot of Feliciano's bed. He sighed, moving back and grabbing it.

"You take forever," Feliciano whined at him. Lovino tossed the necklace at him. He caught it in his chest, "huh?"

"I think you forgot something." Feliciano offered the piece of jewelry a small smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but Lovino distracted him. "C'mon, then, pushy."

"Mhn," he hummed, clasping the cross around his neck with the expertise of someone that had done it three million times before. "Try to keep up this time!"

* * *

Lovino blinked at him, his hands laced behind his head as they walked. The air was cold again today, but Lovino didn't mind. It was nice after a run to be able to walk in the cold. "Fight?"

"Yeah. It kinda worries me how rusty I've gotten," he laughed. "I'd like to pick it up again."

Lovino looked out awkwardly. "Are you sure, though? I mean, you don't even like holding hand most the time."

Feliciano giggled. "Fighting is different than being held. Actually, it's quite the opposite. I don't know, I would just feel better if I was able to pick it back up is all. I don't know. I feel like no matter how many times you tell Gilbert no, we're going to have a part in this fight against the Order and I'd like to be ready. I…I don't want to be weak, Lov."

Lovino chuckled finding a sense of irony in that. "Trust me, you're not fucking weak."

Feliciano bounced in front of him, a loose boxer's stance and a wide grin. "Then fight me."

"In your dreams," Lovino stammered, stepping back.

Feliciano pouted at him. "C'mon, Lov. I promise not to beat you  _too_  badly."

"Feliciano, I'm not fighting you."

"So you do think I'm weak," the kid accused, a scrunched nose and silly glare.

"No, I just—"

"Just what?"

"I don't want to hurt you!"

Feliciano laughed lightly. "Well, then checkmate. You have to fight me. Don't want to hurt my feelings, d'ya?"

Lovino shook his head. "I don't get you," he groaned.

In the end, Feliciano won. He always won. All Lovino could do was smile after that giddy grin. He really didn't understand the kid. He didn't want to be hugged, but when Lovino refused to pin him to the ground he yelled at him. Maybe therapy was fucking him up. Maybe he would just never be as predictable as Lovino thought he was. Whatever it was caused Lovino's jaw to ache. He couldn't bring himself to care a while later. No, he couldn't bring himself to care when fighting for a workout became fighting as a distraction of surrounding shadows and fallen sheets. When fights were allowed to end with short embraces and passionate slow kisses as the both of them caught their breath against one another. When hands wandered over bare skin, biting kisses finding scars collars and bellicose growls became strangled moans. He couldn't mind then.

* * *

Lovino found him in front of Ludwig's grave. He was on his knees, and Lovino walked up with an announcing sigh. "How long have you been out here?" Lovino muttered over him.

"I don't know," Feliciano sniffed, quickly wiping his cheeks, realizing his company.

"Do—Do you want to be left alone? I just wanted to make sure you weren't dead somewhere, is all."

Feliciano giggled. After a long moment, he answered: "you can stay." Lovino sat down next to him, leaning back on his hands. He looked up towards the darkening sky, overgrown grass stuck between his fingers. "Lovino?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you hate Ludwig?"

Lovino blinked, but he wasn't surprised by the question. Fuck, Mathew had asked him plenty. "I don't. Never did. I just—I just think he was a fool."

"Why?"

"Dunno, gut feeling." Lovino laid back fully, folding his arms behind his head. "I didn't see all that goodness that you go on about. He was a fine guy, but I think that there was a lot that he was mistaken about."

"No one knows everything."

"I know, I know. Just—I don't know."

"Lovino?"

"Yup?"

"I never wanted to kill myself. I never wanted to die." Lovino frowned into the sky. He couldn't bring himself to glace over, just an inch, because he was sure that his features said something that he wasn't quite ready to word. He could imagine the scene, though. Feliciano, curled into himself, into the cross. He sniffed. "I just wanted people to stop dying for me to live."

Lovino hummed. "Then why did you take the pill from me?"

There was a short pause. "Because where I didn't want to die, I wanted you to live. Plus I couldn't let the first time you said you love me be followed up by you killing yourself."

Lovino furrowed his brows with something of a chuckle. "I told you I loved you before that."

The kid let off a small, almost mocking sound. "Yeah, as a joke, Lovino. You never—it was never real."

"Still, you were too impulsive," Lovino pressed.

"Yeah, I know."

There was another long moment, but Lovino found himself getting kicked. He sat and glared at the kid that had recoiled his food, charging for another bound. "What was that for?"

"Say it."

"Say what?"

"That you love me."

Why did he look mad? How did he look mad, with his eyes puffy from the crying he had done? Was it a real anger? More like a pout when Lovino considered it closer. He turned his chin, lying back down. "No."

"What?" Feliciano asked, almost surprised.

"Not gonna do it."

"Why not?"

"Because—" he trailed off, trying to come up with a reason—"because there's an alien invasion coming, and the only way to defeat them is through hatred. I must steel my heart so that I might be able to save the world."

"You're a butthole," Feliciano whined, offering another kick. Lovino grabbed his foot this time, knocking him down.

"Are you an alien?" he asked, arm's length away as he pinned the kid to the ground.

Feliciano just glared at him. "No, but I do understand hatred. Know why?"

Lovino hummed at him, smirking.

"Because I hate you."

Careful, Lovino lowered into a short kiss, mindful of the kid's body language as he did so. He pulled away quickly, not looking to push any boundaries. "Feliciano Varmint," he declared, close enough that their noses practically touched as he stared into the other's eyes. "I love you."

* * *

"I didn't realize that joint session meant  _Gilbert_  too," Lovino sighed when Mathew showed up with the albino.

Gilbert offered a mocking sneer, but it was all in good humor. "Thought I should show up, make sure Mattie here wasn't being tricked."

"Tricked?" Lovino asked, moving aside to let the two in.

"I'm clearing the both of you to work," Mathew announced. "I will, of course, be doing regular check-ups, but you two are right. Inactivity is only going to stunt the growth you two have accomplished."

When Lovino sat on the couch, Feliciano interlaced their hands and the older brunet couldn't help but puff out his chest with some sort of pride towards the action. "Really?" he asked. "That's—Well, that's great!"

Mathew nodded with a smile. "Gilbert is here to help discuss job options."

"First off," Gilbert started loudly, "which one of you guys want to assist me in my awesomeness?—Feliciano, why are  _you_  glaring at me!"

* * *

Lovino chuckled, closing the door after them. "Wow, so things are actually getting started!" he practically cried with excitement. He stretched out idly, a happy sigh as he let his arms fall behind his head. "This is great! Fucking great! What do you think, Fell—hey, what's wrong?"

The kid hadn't talked much during the meeting, but Lovino had assumed that it was because he was just taking it all in. Without company his smile dropped, and he was staring into the floor. "Lov," he muttered carefully, "I—I don't want to stay here."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to stay in the Renegade. I want to go back to the String. I…I want to see Al and my parents again. I want to have a sense of time, I—I don't know. I just…I know that I don't want to stay here." He looked up with a sheepish expression.

Lovino offered him a tick of a smile. "You've been thinking about it for a while now?"

"Yeah," he admitted with a shrug. "It's great here," he started fiddling with his pants, "I just don't feel that becoming a construction worker or some note-taker is what I should be doing. I feel like my efforts would be better spent on the String. I don't know."

"Alright."

Feliciano blinked up at him. "Alright?"

Lovino shrugged. "Yeah. You want to go back to the String? Sounds good to me. Let's go."

"Really? You—You don't want to stay here?"

"Only thing keeping me here is you."

"But—You're finally making friends."

"Boxer buddies, maybe, but I'm sure I could pick a fight just as well on Earth. Anyway, you're right. Haven't seen my mom since we were in the mines." He shrugged. "Could be an experience." Feliciano shook his head with a laugh. "What? What's so funny?"

"You really are a dick."

* * *

Lovino sighed, looking outwards to the fields that whispered with calm winds, unbeknowest to the horrors that had taken place. The skies were clear, a soft sun surrounded by a sea of blue. The grass was dead and brown, but it was all a brighter brown then it had seemed before. The crunching of the dirt road wasn't as abrasive, the old, empty house as ominous. Still, the cop cars that were lined up and the team that was scattered around the property didn't let Lovino forget why he had returned to Nebraska.

Lovino grunted, a hand shooting up to the back of his head. "Hey!" he yelled, turning around to find the dick that had just slapped him in the back of the head.

"Hey to you, dickweed," Alfred returned humorlessly. His features had aged considerably, the baldness of his head seeming to take on a grey of its own. Still, his eyes held the sternness of his youth, and Lovino was sure that his tongue still contained the stubbornness of it, as well.

"Ah, detective ass, what a surprise."

Feliciano rolled his eyes, coming up behind Alfred with a file tucked beneath his arm. "Play nice, you two."

"What's a retired cop doing at an active investigation in the middle of nowhere?" Lovino asked with a slight quirk of his brow.

"I called him, you know that," Feliciano defended.

"Just making sure I didn't need to beat your ass," Alfred shot.

Lovino smirked, but his comment, as well as his features, were wiped clean, his ears twitching after the commotion behind him and towards the field. He turned quickly, watching. An officer was out there, waving his arm and talking into a radio. The scratching message was passed along from the radio the retired cop wore.

They found him.

"Thank you for coming."

"Let me know if you ever need anything."

"Of course. I'll get on these as soon as possible."

Lovino didn't turn to offer his farewells to Alfred. It seemed that he had only showed up to hand off a case to Feliciano. Lovino would wonder later what needed to be handed off and real-time and not faxed, but right now all he could do was stare.

He watched as the body was recovered in pieces. As the team worked until the soft sun faded. His heart tremored when he over heard them discussing it, and he wanted to speak up, but, of course, he couldn't without drawing suspicion to himself. Feliciano had sat in the dirt to flip over the file, content to mutter out light facts that Lovino didn't listen to, but as the day drew on he decided to stand.

It was slow, the way he stole Lovino's hands and wrapped them around himself, his back barely pressing into Lovino's chest with Lovino's arms crossing over his chest in an X, but he settled into it. Lovino rest his chin on his shoulder, afraid to do much else as the kid's breathing pattern had changed. Just slightly, but Lovino was extremely aware of the way he tensed, as if his chest was constricting into itself.

"Lovino?" he said lowly, resting his head against Lovino's. Lovino hummed back, staring onto the crime scene. "Remember all that stuff about sadness and happiness?" Lovino furrowed his brow, moving slightly so he could glance at the boy's countenance. He looked thoughtful, staring down at Lovino's chest until he rose his eyes rose to meet the others. Honey, light but swimming. Lovino liked them when they swam. "How sadness is okay because the sadder one gets the happier they're allowed to be?"

"Yeah."

"You're the happiness I fight for," he decided.

Lovino smiled softly at him as the kid pressed his back further into the hug. "I don't deserve you," he murmured.

"Probably not," Feliciano giggled, looking back to the scene of scattering officers as they made their way off the taped-up crime scene. It was finally over, wasn't it? Lovino could finally, truly move forward. His future was no longer a thing to look forward to, but rather to live. "But you're stuck with me."

"I think I can live with that."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_We don't believe in happily ever afters here, but we do believe in working the ass off to get what one wants, and you know what, I think these characters are strong enough to succeed at finding happiness. Want to see how? Stick around for the last chapter! We have won the war and overcome the adventure, now let's see how our protagonist tackles the future!_

COMMENT! What is your favorite book?


	55. Cinquante-Cinq

Lovino ducked back into the trench, his back pressed against the stacked bags and dirt and wheels. His jaw was set, but his mind was clear as he waited for the wave of lead to stop long enough for his to tip his head back over the top, long enough to take proper aim and take out the Greys hiding behind the abandoned jeep. The Sudanese sun was forever blasting above him, the dirt below him dry and thankful for the blood the forever civil war offered it. Lovino took notice of the warmth of his gun before sucking in a deep breath and turning to fire.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Ode screamed from his place, picking himself up with a slight turn as he ran, his gun pressed into his chest more than the tattered clothing he wore, knees bent and sticking out of holed pants. Lovino followed obediently, and before long they were stationed in a rubble building made of upheld woods and cloths. An abandoned village, perhaps one of the many that the hospital had taken refugees from. "Cover the window!" Ode demanded, motioning towards the large, shop-like opening. Lovino fell into position, his gun poised for any passing threat. Ode stood at the door that they had entered, his eyes a black fire as he watched and waited. He was young, only seventeen or eighteen if Lovino had to guess, but he acted as if he had been fighting this war his whole life.

Well, there was a reason for that. He  _had_  been fighting this war his whole life.

It was a bitter realization that there were boys as young as five being trained with automatics, but in some parts of the world Lovino was coming to realize that such things were just as natural as being sent off to kindergarten. Wade the river and huddle the cattle in the morning, ride into battle half-starved but good, patriotic spirits in the evening.

If they were lucky enough to not be raided, that was.

The single face that Lovino was looking for cascaded through his mind. He couldn't explain to what detail he understood it, but he knew that the moment he crossed paths with it he would know, and his target would have been finally located after three long months. The date to which he must secure her by also screamed attention to itself. He only had five days left. Five days before his target was killed and his energies proved futile.

"Let's go," Ode ordered once more. Out the door, down the side, Lovino followed without question, his eyes always open and weapon always ready. Bullets started again and Lovino slid into cover, pushing back with his own set of attacks as he looked forward to find Ode in the chaos. The young man popped up, shot, and ducked away again. Lovino, finding the comfort in that, took on his wave of Greys.

The world was silent.

"Let's go!"

Lovino made his way from his cover, but immediately stopped. He had felt the air of the streaming bullet, and the prick of the splintered wood that came from it embedding itself into the structure Lovino had stayed close to.

 _Sniper_.

He flew back into his cover, searching the area blindly, feeling for energies. His powers came in useful sometimes here, though if he were to pull out any weapon he would likely be hanged for witch craft. He drew a deep breath.

There were two energies in a concealed structure a few paces off. Lovino seriously doubted that he could make it without being spotted by the sniper, and he hadn't the faintest idea if the sniper was indeed his target.

A sharp, muffled shot let off. Lovino swallowed the pain that came with the discovery of one less energy on the roads.

"Fuck," he growled. His guide was dead. He should have saved him, but he couldn't. He knew from the very beginning that the kid would die. It just didn't feel as real on paper as it did in real time.

Never did.

"If Gilbert sends me on one more fucking mission that requires me befriending someone I can't save," he muttered to himself, stacking up his courage as he prepared to throw himself out recklessly, "I'm going to fucking kill him."

Having made his amends, Lovino threw himself forward into a sprint, making way to the structure he felt the sniper was in. He careened into the dirt, hitting his head against the bumper of a vehicle and groaning after his own incompetence. Kicking himself back up, he continued his journey.

Skill, luck, miracle, he wasn't sure what he called it, but he made it.

Made it just to get fucking shot at.

He hugged his gun to a rising chest, swallowing as he hid against the building's side. "Here's to fucking nothing," he prayed to the sun, screwing his eyes shut momentarily as he screamed out: "Ada! Don't shoot! Fuck, how the hell do you say that—fuck," he didn't even try figuring it out. Really, he understood a little bit of the language Ode's village used, and there were a few phrases from other's that he had learned when he was working as a guard against the Greys at the hospital, but three months had taught him more in the way of arms than it did tongue, and he wasn't going to shout something that was going to get him killed.

He readied his gun and stooped back into the doorway. He found himself alone visibly and took a steady step forward, careful of possible tripwires. He caught the flash of extrusion before his body had time to react, and before he could even turn to meet his attacker there was a dull pressing of a barrel pressed to his back. He put his hands up when the barrel bit dangerously, his gun held shakily with its own barrel in the air.

"Who are you?"

English. Accented heavily, but English. Lovino was careful as he spoke. "My name is Lovino, I'm looking for Ada."

Another pinch. "Why?"

"I've come to save her life."

A snort. "Put down your weapon. Slowly!"

Lovino slowed his movements, bending at the knees, forever aware of the pressing in his back. The moment his hand moved away from his gun, however, he was turning, pushing the offending gun away with an open palm and catching the woman in the jaw with a controlled fist. He secured her gun as his own. She glowered up at him. She was different than her picture, but Lovino knew the features. "Ada," he sighed. "I don't want to hurt you."

"How do you know me?"

"You're going to die soon. I've come to make sure you don't."

There was a light rustle from behind him, and Lovino could sense the energy of the second person. He turned, but Ada let out a scream, barreling forward to attack. "Don't touch her!"

There was a small girl that had crawled out of her hiding spot beneath the rubble of fallen ceiling and broken stairs, and in her arms, she shakily held Lovino's weapon. Her eyes were full of tears and Lovino could see that one of her legs was extremely damaged to the point of discoloration of dark skin and mangled angle.

Lovino moved aside just in time to miss the clawing, and soon Ada was in repossession of a gun of her own. Her body shook, though Lovino had a suspicion that it was not for fear of herself. "Go or I will shoot you!"

"You're going to be killed. Please, just come with me!" Lovino insisted.

"You cannot know that. I know your men and your ways. Go, white man, you will not have me and my sister as well."

Lovino clenched his teeth together, moving not to leave but to put down his weapon. "I mean you and your sister no harm," he promised softly. "Please, just come with me."

"I cannot trust you!"

"Please, Ada, I wouldn't know your name and your face if I was not looking for you specifically."

"You—You and your men, you come and fight in a war that is not yours! You claim to help, but you do not! Leave! Leave us to our own fight! We do not need your generosity!"

"I am not here to fight."

"I saw you out there!" she screamed in disbelief. "You claim that was not fighting?"

"You are my goal, Ada. You are my only goal. Please, I—I have a friend in the hospital a few miles back west. He can help your sister before she grows any weaker. Please, Ada, I need you to come with me."

"Why? Why me?"

"There's another fight we need your skill in. You're going to die soon, but I can keep that from happening." She paused, her shaking becoming slightly more apparent. Brown eyes flashed from Lovino to the young girl that she hid behind herself. "There is a lot you don't know about, and I can't explain it all now. But it you come with me I can. If you come with me I can save both yours and your sister's life. All I ask is that you come with me and hear me out."

"Your—Your friend—he's a doctor?"

Lovino nodded. "Yes, the best I've ever known. If he can't save your sister, then no one can. Give him a chance.  _Please_ , Ada." He shuffled his feet under him, the squatted position growing uncomfortable, but didn't dare to stand or lower his arms until the woman seemed to come to a forced decision.

"Al—Alright. My—Kali cannot walk."

Lovino rose slowly. "I can carry her, and you can keep your gun on me if it makes you feel better."

"No, you could use her as your shield!"

"Then you carry her and I will carry the weapon to make sure we are covered under an attack. I give my word that I mean you no harm."

She scattered her vision across the floor, shaking her head as if she thought herself an idiot—Lovino could relate. Finally, they came to the decision that Kali would ride on Ada's back and Lovino would go ahead. Lovino almost feared that she would sprint off and hide, but he also trusted that she truly feared for her sister's life and put his faith in that.

Their journey was long and dreary. They were forced to stop, the young girl falling to fits of illness and Ada demanding they rest, the journey straining the child more than she could take. Lovino gave up every ounce of food and water he had left.

"Your English is excellent," Lovino observed, his gun poised, scouting the area as they walked.

"My mother taught me," Ada admitted quietly. "She always said that English doctors were the best, and if I could manage to woo one I would be saved from this place." She shrugged Kali further up her back with a light grunt. "She was a fool, and now she is dead."

"Your father?" Lovino asked.

"Stick your nose in your own business and leave it there," she snapped dangerously at him.

Lovino stole a quick glance her way. He fell silent.

The village that the hospital was stationed at was barricaded by a wooden fence made of any and every object that could be sacrificed for the job. Only now, what had been sacrificed was much more than simple objects. Bodies lined around the walls.

An attack.

Lovino attempted to calm the palpitation of his heart but he couldn't as he started forward at a great pace. The gate that denied entry was locked, and Lovino quickly screamed up to who he had remembered to be the old gate keeper. There was a muffle, and the gate was opened.

"What's happened?" he demanded of the young boy of maybe eleven that had granted him access.

"Greys," the young boy said. There was a young girl with him, one Lovino recognized to frequent the hospital as an assistant to the nurses. "Couldn't let them all in."

"Did they get in?"

"No."

Lovino breathed out with a long sigh. He had been gone for a little over a week, probably, and had been well aware of the likelihood of the village being attacked in his absence. There weren't many soldiers guarding the village after the arms from further East had left, but it seemed that there were still enough good fighters to keep the Greys out. For now, at least.

Ada had struggled to match Lovino's pace, but her confidence in her strides rose when the bloodied coughing of her sister starting up again. "This doctor of yours," she demanded.

"Yes, Amare," Lovino reference the girl, moving to relieve Ada of the young girl, "take this woman and get her something to eat."

"No, I will come with you," Ada insisted, her eyes stern. "I will stay with my sister."

Lovino almost opened his mouth to dismiss her, but the frail child in his arms was getting worse and he had no time to argue. The boy took Lovino's gun and Lovino made haste towards the tent that bustled with the sick and the healers.

A great deal of commotion came from the area. People were lined up the side of the tent, a doctor walked out, scabbed by another's blood, hands pressed against her eyes as if she grasped for prayers as she walked. Lovino shuffled in the door, walking past the child that cried into a village woman's shoulder weakly.

"Feliciano!" Lovino called, dodging the fabric of the walls.

The doctor he was looking for had his back turned to him and was talking to a distraught woman that cried out wildly, her distress caused obviously by the infant the nurse was clearing off the table. "Mother, please," Feliciano said, his voice both stern and emotional, his hand outstretched to her shoulder as he crouched to look at her directly. "Your child is with God now."

"Feliciano," Lovino snapped once more, placing the frail, fitting girl on the table. The boy stood and turned towards him, quickly taking in the scene. His eyes scraped across Ada with both curiosity and the slightest recognition, but he understood right now was not the time to speak. He moved to the newest case, leaving the mother to wail in her loss as he had been forced to do with so many others.

"I will have to amputate her leg," he diagnosed quickly. "Nurse, please prepare for an amputation."

The young nurse bustled and moved, forcing Lovino to step away.

"No! You cannot!" Ada demanded desperately.

Feliciano fixed her with a gentle yet stern gaze. "Do you rather her die with two legs or live with one?" Ada opened her mouth, but nothing but a strangled cry came out. "Lovino, please take her out."

Lovino nodded, wrapping a careful arm around the woman's shoulders and directing her away. Ada covered her mouth with her hand, tears streaking and mucking the dried dirt to his chin. "Pray if you must," he instructed, coming out into the air.

* * *

"Lovino," Feliciano murmured, coming out of the tent a while later. Lovino had taken a seat with Ada against the side of the hospital. He looked up, catching the tired stare rimmed red and black. He looked bad, but not any worse than any of the other doctors he worked with.

"How is she?" Ada demanded, moving to stand.

Feliciano offered her a small smile. "She is alive and sleeping. You can visit her in a bit. Lovino, can I talk to you?"

Ada looked between the two men, an obvious distrust set along her countenance. Lovino nodded and stood. Feliciano walked him through to the operating room where Kali still lay. As he had told Ada, the girl was asleep. The nurse wrapped the dismembered leg and moved to discard it.

"What is it?" Lovino asked quietly, noticing the obvious distress in the way Feliciano raked his fingers through his hair and stared at the ground.

"She won't live much longer here," he admitted. "There's not enough medication to sustain her or even to lighten her fever." He shook his head, breathing deeply through his nose. Tears rimmed his eyes, but they didn't fall. He was starting to understand that he couldn't save everyone, but that didn't mean every patient didn't take its toll.

Lovino sat quiet for a long moment before offering his thoughts. "We take her back with us, then."

"You know what Gilbert will say to that. Last time we brought more back than what we were sent for he tore us a new one."

"Well Gilbert can suck my ass," Lovino decided harshly. "You said it yourself, she'll die here. Meaning it won't screw up the String. Anyway, that girl out there won't budge without her sister. If Gilbert takes issue with it, then let him. Worst comes to worse he sends her back. It's his ass that'll be reemed down by that girl out there." Lovino sighed, grabbing Feliciano's hand gently. Feliciano looked up to him.

"Alright," Feliciano agreed finally, sniffing quickly and letting out a groan. "Alright, but your taking the blame for this one."

"Deal," Lovino agreed. "When do we leave?"

"I—My shift should be over in a couple hours, unless there's another attack."

Lovino smiled with something of a breathy chuckle. "You've saved a lot of people here."

Feliciano sighed, his thumb rubbing against Lovino's wrist absentmindedly. "Yeah. Not sure if it was the right thing to do. Only so much energy."

Lovino cupped his chin, forcing the kid to come out of his head and recognize the smile he sent him. "One day this war will start and the Order will fall, and when that happens there will be plenty of energy to go around. Don't beat yourself up over saving innocent lives, Fell."

Feliciano smiled back at him, leaning into the touch and allowing his eyes to flick closed.

* * *

"I sent you for one," Gilbert said, not even turning to face them as they came into his office, "and you arrive with two."

"The girl needs proper medical attention and the target refused to come with us if we didn't bring the girl along, too," Lovino stated blandly.

Gilbert sighed, finally turning to them. "Did you at least check her for disease this time?"

"Took her straight to quarantine," Feliciano assured. "The target is with her."

Gilbert nodded with a short sigh. "Hey," Lovino pointed out, "you're the one who decided to build the rebuild the Renegade with should-be-dead firecrackers, not us."

"Yeah, yeah," Gilbert dismissed with a slight wave of his hand.

"Is the next assignment ready?" Feliciano asked.

Gilbert quirked a brow at him, "it will be soon. Got Allistor finishing up the final details. You two better rest up, though. And Matt wants to do an evaluation before you're sent off again."

"Standard," Lovino agreed, as before every mission they were evaluated.

"I'll find you when I need you."

Lovino slitted a glare his way. "Are you tracking our clocks again?"

Gilbert laughed. "Never stopped."

"What! You said—"

" _I understand your concerns, Lovino_ ," Gilbert mocked in a brave tone. He smirked over at the brunet.

Feliciano giggled. "You really should catch on to that one by now, Lov."

"Alright, we'll you're dismissed or whatever. Just please stop bringing extra people in."

"You could use all the populating you can get if you're wanting to raise an army," Lovino pressed back.

* * *

Feliciano ran a tired towel through his hair as he came into their room. His eyelids drooped even as he stood, and he yawned widely. "I think that was our longest case yet," he muttered, settling into bed beside Lovino. Lovino groaned back, knowing that the kid's exhaustion would be one of those types that would make Lovino low-key afraid that Feliciano had fallen into a coma.

"Yeah, sorry it took so long," he mumbled back.

"Snipers and bombers and ghost-hunters—I wonder what'll be next," Feliciano joked quietly against Lovino's shoulder.

"Gilbert really knows how to pick 'em."

* * *

"What do you mean you invited your parents?" Lovino demanded.

Feliciano smiled innocently at him, but Lovino wasn't falling for the act. "You still haven't met them, so I thought we'd kill two birds with a single stone. Anyway, June was ecstatic when I offered it."

Lovino groaned. "You got my mom in on it?"

"Lovino, I'm not going to invite people over to your mother's house without consulting her."

Lovino just groaned again.

* * *

There was a light dust of snow on the ground. Lovino secured his hands under his arms. His childhood home wasn't as lit-up as it used to be when he was a kid, but he could see the colorful lights that streamed through the windows at them. Feliciano bounded up the steps, a wonderful energy about him that caused Lovino to smile. The kid—well, the younger one—held the certifications of a surgeon, had seen far too many deaths, and had still never gotten over Ludwig's sacrifice (though Lovino understood), but there was something about him. And ever since they had taken up Gilbert's job offer, that something seemed to do nothing but flourish. Lovino didn't get it totally. A little, maybe. Maybe, of course, wasn't his favorite term, so he decided to go along with what he knew.

He loved him, his energies, and every quirk and tear that came along with him. Even if it put Lovino back in the line of a gun every once in a while. He was the descendent of Chaos, after all, he could take it. And it kept life from ever growing dull. Which helped. Helped his anger, his anxiety. Mathew had even mentioned that the both of them were doing leagues better than what they had been during their time in the apartment. Even the chaotic nature of medical school seemed to assist Feliciano with his nightmares, even though it was a studious type of adventure rather than something that asked much of his muscles or physical attributes outside of stress management. (Not to mention the fact that he probably would have graduated a lot earlier if he hadn't continued to run off to go do cases for Alfred. Really, Feliciano didn't understand taking one thing at a time. Even now he was attempting to figure out the case of the Wy girl on the side of the missions Gilbert handed them.)

The storm door was still practically closed when the wooden door was thrown open, Lovino's mother emerging with a cry of delight as she stole Feliciano into her arms. "I'm so glad you two could make it."

Lovino rolled his eyes with a light humor as he climbed his way up to the door himself. "Time travel, Mom. We literally could be a hundred and still make it."

"Thank you so much for having us!" Feliciano exclaimed. Lovino sometimes wondered whether his mother liked Feliciano better than she liked him, it wouldn't surprise him if he was right, and the way his mother was looking at him right now definitely nailed that coffin shut.

"Of course. You're welcome anytime. Now, tell me, how are your studies going?"

Feliciano blinked, looking almost guilty as they made their way in the house. "Oh, wow, has it really been that long?" he laughed.

* * *

Lovino wore the biggest smile he'd ever worn before. Feliciano furrowed a brow at him. "Lov, you alright?"

"She's looking at me weird," he muttered through gritted, smiling teeth.

Feliciano offered a soft smile at the couple sitting in the living room. "Lovino," he said quietly, "I—My mom won't kill you, I promise. You can cut the creepy grin."

"I think it's stuck."

Feliciano just giggled, shaking his head and grabbing the tray he had come into the dining room to grab. He offered a light peck to Lovino's cheek. "Well, unstick it and feel free to join us. I'd like your help explaining everything."

"I think I'm having a heart attack."

The kid just shook his head with a light roll of his eyes. "My knight in shining armor," he joked, walking back.

"Rosco," Lovino whispered to the dog under the table, "if you were ever going to turn rabid and eat someone, it'd be now, and the someone would be me. Please, old buddy."

* * *

Lovino collapsed against the couch with a long sigh. "I don't ever want to do that again," he groaned, throwing a hand over his eyes.

"You did great," Feliciano laughed. "Aside from that weird bit where you called her sir?"

"I panicked!"

"Will you boys be spending the night?" Lovino's mother asked gently, with an amused laugh of her own. Everyone seemed to take enjoyment from Lovino's pain. The usual.

"Uhm," Feliciano hummed, and Lovino knew that he was looking over to him for the answer.

Lovino sighed and straightened. "I think that we'll—" A sudden knock on the door cut him off. "Fuck, they're back," Lovino cursed lowly, quickly finding that the thought of doing the dishes was delightful and fun.

"Mrs. Gaspari!" came the shout when Lovino's mother had answered the door. Only, it wasn't Feliciano's folks.

"Gilbert, what are you doing here?" Lovino demanded as he made his way in.

"I told you I'd find you when I was ready." Lovino couldn't help but glare at him when he offered Feliciano a wink and hearty chuckle. Feliciano just smirked, his eyes alight. "Oh, and I brought these. Christmas time and all, family recipe."

"Thank you very much," Lovino's mother said.

"Where's the husband?"

"Had to work unfortunately. I swear, the airlines will never give him a day off."

"Well, I'm sorry to say I might be taking the rest of your holiday company."

She shook her head. "No, no, it's fine."

Lovino offered his mom a kiss on the cheek and a light: "Merry Christmas."

"Do try to visit before you're as old as I am," she pressed sharply.

Lovino chuckled. "I don't even know how old I am now. But, I will try."

"Don't worry," Feliciano promised, "we'll be back. Thank you again for having us."

"Of course. Be careful."

They stepped out into the cold. Gilbert turned to them with a smile. Lovino didn't like that and he considered him suspiciously. "You still know how to use your powers, right, Lovino?"

"Yeah," he drew carefully. "Why?"

Gilbert handed over the file he had stored at his side up until now. Lovino opened it, Feliciano read over his shoulder. Lovino couldn't help the dubious look that overtook his features. "No way."

"Pirates?" Feliciano laughed.

Gilbert threw them the bag that was on his shoulder. "I packed extra toothpaste, no worries," he laughed. "You should be caught up on all the shots need, just don't go sleeping around."

Lovino blinked at him. "Wait, why do I need my powers for this?"

The albino shrugged. "You know all those myths about magical sea creatures and sirens and yadiya?" He laughed at the expression Lovino gave him. "Not all of them are exactly myths. So, keep on your toes. Say hi to Gregory if you find yourself in Atlantis."

"Atlantis?"

"And no extra people this time, you hear me?"

Gilbert left a while after, leaving the pair

Lovino shook his head, staring down at the file and then glancing up at Feliciano. "Pirates," he said.

"Pirates," Feliciano repeated.

"He sure knows how to fucking pick 'em."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_AND WE'RE DONE! I honestly love this ending so much. Lovino may say that he hates the high-action, but as we saw last chapter contemporary is not a healthy life choice for him, and the adventure is like therapy for Feliciano—really, neither one of them are the type to sit still in my head, and I'm writing the shots so take your qualms up with a court if you want to fight me._

_If you'd like to read more, feel free to check out_ **Love You to the Moon and Back** _on my profile, or one of my original works on AO3:_ **Between Water and Sky** _or_ **Finnegan Lynch and the Lunar Pearl** _. The last two both have pirates if the ending to this made you want to read an adventure with some kickass pirates. Also, there may be a work out by the title of_ **Of Salt and Fury** _depending on the time that you're reading this: an unrelated!Itacest story with a little fantastical adventure revolving around the lost city of Atlantis (and whatever the hell my head decides to add along the way). I'm going to try and write that one in a new style, more like_ The Private Adventures of Captain Shaw by Edith Shay  _and less like whatever-the-hell this was. So, idk, keep your eye out if you're interested._

**LEAVE A REVIEW IF YOU WANT!**

_I'd love to see what you guys thought of the adventure that took me three god damn months to write. How much did the writing mistakes make you laugh/cringe? Did you think Feliciano was going to stay dead? How pissed are you that I left a lot of things open (was a purposeful decision, this is a semi-realistic fantasy, after all) rather than wrapping everything up? Leave a review, criticism is ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS WELCOME. (Seriously, the only reason I'm writing fanfiction is to get better at writing. You guys pointing out things like faulty arches or maddening descriptions helps a lot on my journey to become one of the next classic adventure authors—think HG Wells meets Huxley after having an affair with William Golding. I'm excited.)_

_Now I'm off to go join the greatest Naval force in the world, and if you take issue with me saying that I am willing to fight you._ **U-S-A, U-S-A!** _Love you all, and thanks for sticking around._


End file.
